THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 


BY 

ROBERT  LOUIS  STEVENSON 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 
CHARLES  SCREBNER'S  SONS 

1914 


ROBERT    LOUIS   STEVENSON 

From  a  portrait  taken  at  San  Francisco  in  1879. 
Copyright  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 


College 
Library 


CONTENTS 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  ,A« 

STORY  OF  THE  YOUNG  MAN  WITH  THE  CREAM  TARTS  .  8 
STORY  OF  THE  PHYSICIAN  AND  THE  SARATOGA  TRUNK  .  38 
THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  HANSOM  CAB  .  .  .  .69 

THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND 

STORY  OF  THE  BANDBOX 93 

STORY  OF  THE  YOUNG  MAN  m  HOLY  ORDERS  ...  122 
STORY  OF  THE  HOUSE  WITH  THE  GREEN  BLINDS  .  .  140 
THE  ADVENTURE  OF  PRINCE  FLORIZEL  AND  THE 

DETECTIVE 176 

THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS 184 

A  LODGING  FOR  THE  NIGHT 251 

THE  SIRE  DE  MALETROIT'S  DOOR 276 

PROVIDENCE  AND  THE  GUITAR .  .  301 


84C29A 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


ROBERT  Louis  STEVENSON        .        .        .       Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 
EDINBURGH  HOME  OP  THE  STEVENSON  FAMILY,  1853-1887  .  186 


NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 


TO 

ROBERT  ALAN   MOWBRAY  STEVENSON 

IN  GRATEFUL  REMEMBRANCE  OF  THEIR  YOUTH 
AND  THEIR  ALREADY  OLD  AFFECTION 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB 

STORY  OF  THE  YOUNG  MAN  WITH  THE 
CREAM  TARTS 

DURING  his  residence  in  London,  the  accomplished 
Prince  Florizel  of  Bohemia  gained  the  affection  of  all 
classes  by  the  seduction  of  his  manner  and  by  a  well- 
considered  generosity.  He  was  a  remarkable  man  even 
by  what  was  known  of  him;  and  that  was  but  a  small 
part  of  what  he  actually  did.  Although  of  a  placid  tem- 
per in  ordinary  circumstances,  and  accustomed  to  take  the 
world  with  as  much  philosophy  as  any  ploughman,  the 
Prince  of  Bohemia  was  not  without  a  taste  for  ways  of 
life  more  adventurous  and  eccentric  than  that  to  which  he 
was  destined  by  his  birth.  Now  and  then,  when  he  fell 
into  a  low  humor,  when  there  was  no  laughable  play  to 
witness  in  any  of  the  London  theatres,  and  when  the  season 
of  the  year  was  unsuitable  to  those  field  sports  in  which 
he  excelled  all  competitors,  he  would  summon  his  confi- 
dant and  Master  of  the  Horse,  Colonel  Geraldine,  and  bid 
him  prepare  himself  against  an  evening  ramble.  The 
Master  of  the  Horse  was  a  young  officer  of  a  brave  and 
even  temerarious  disposition.  He  greeted  the  news  with 
delight,  and  hastened  to  make  ready.  Long  practice  and 
a  varied  acquaintance  of  life  had  given  him  a  singular 
facility  in  disguise;  he  could  adapt  not  only  his  face  and 
bearing,  but  his  voice  and  almost  his  thoughts,  to  those  of 
any  rank,  character,  or  nation;  and  in  this  way  he  diverted 
attention  from  the  Prince,  and  sometimes  gained  admis- 


4  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

sion  for  the  pair  into  strange  societies.  The  civil  authori- 
ties were  never  taken  into  the  secret  of  these  adventures; 
the  imperturbable  courage  of  the  one  and  the  ready  inven- 
tion and  chivalrous  devotion  of  the  other  had  brought 
them  through  a  score  of  dangerous  passes;  and  they  grew 
in  confidence  as  time  went  on. 

One  evening  in  March  they  were  driven  by  a  sharp  fall 
of  sleet  into  an  Oyster  Bar  in  the  immediate  neighbor- 
hood of  Leicester  Square.  Colonel  Geraldine  was  dressed 
and  painted  to  represent  a  person  connected  with  the 
Press  in  reduced  circumstances;  while  the  Prince  had,  as 
usual,  travestied  his  appearance  by  the  addition  of  false 
whiskers  and  a  pair  of  large  adhesive  eyebrows.  These 
lent  him  a  shaggy  and  weather-beaten  air,  which,  for  one 
of  his  urbanity,  formed  the  most  impenetrable  disguise. 
Thus  equipped,  the  commander  and  his  satellite  sipped 
their  brandy  and  soda  in  security. 

The  bar  was  full  of  guests,  both  male  and  female;  but 
though  more  than  one  of  these  offered  to  fall  into  talk 
with  our  adventurers,  none  of  them  promised  to  grow 
interesting  upon  a  nearer  acquaintance.  There  was  noth- 
ing present  but  the  lees  of  London  and  the  commonplace 
of  disrespectability;  and  the  Prince  had  already  fallen 
to  yawning,  and  was  beginning  to  grow  weary  of  the 
v/hole  excursion,  when  the  swing  doors  were  pushed  vio- 
lently open,  and  a  young  man,  followed  by  a  couple  of 
commissionaires,  entered  the  bar.  Each  of  the  com- 
missionaires carried  a  large  dish  of  cream  tarts  under 
a  cover,  which  they  at  once  removed;  and  the  young 
man  made  the  round  of  the  company,  and  pressed  these 
confections  upon  everyone's  acceptance  with  an  exag- 
gerated courtesy.  Sometimes  his  offer  was  laughingly 
accepted;  sometimes  it  was  firmly,  or  even  harshly,  re- 
jected. In  these  latter  cases  the  newcomer  always  ate 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  5 

the  tart  himself,  with  some  more  or  less  humorous  com- 
mentary. 

At  last  he  accosted  Prince  Florizel. 

"Sir,"  said  he,  with  a  profound  obeisance,  proffering 
the  tart  at  the  same  time  between  his  thumb  and  fore- 
finger, "will  you  so  far  honor  an  entire  stranger?  I  can 
answer  for  the  quality  of  the  pastry,  having  eaten  two 
dozen  and  three  of  them  myself  since  five  o'clock. ' ' 

"I  am  in  the  habit,"  replied  the  Prince,  "of  looking 
not  so  much  to  the  nature  of  a  gift  as  to  the  spirit  in 
which  it  is  offered." 

'  'The  spirit,  sir, ' '  returned  the  young  man,  with  another 
bow,  "is  one  of  mockery." 

"Mockery?"  repeated  Florizel.  "And  whom  do  you 
propose  to  mock?" 

"I  am  not  here  to  expound  my  philosophy,"  replied 
the  other,  "but  to  distribute  these  cream  tarts.  If  I 
mention  that  I  heartily  include  myself  in  the  ridicule 
of  the  transaction,  I  hope  you  will  consider  honor  satis- 
fied and  condescend.  If  not,  you  will  constrain  me  to 
eat  my  twenty-eighth,  and  I  own  to  being  weary  of  the 
exercise." 

"You  touch  me,"  said  the  Prince,  "and  I  have  all  the 
will  in  the  world  to  rescue  you  from  this  dilemma,  but 
upon  one  condition.  If  my  friend  and  I  eat  your  cakes — 
for  which  we  have  neither  of  us  any  natural  inclination 
—we  shall  expect  you  to  join  us  at  supper  by  way  of 
recompense. ' ' 

The  young  man  seemed  to  reflect. 

"I  have  still  several  dozen  upon  hand,"  he  said  at  last; 
"and  that  will  make  it  necessary  for  me  to  visit  several 
more  bars  before  my  great  affair  is  concluded.  This  will 
take  some  time;  and  if  you  are  hungry " 

The  Prince  interrupted  him  with  a  polite  gesture. 


6  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"My  friend  and  I  will  accompany  you,"  he  said;  "for 
we  have  already  a  deep  interest  in  your  very  agreeable 
mode  of  passing  an  evening.  And  now  that  the  prelimi- 
naries of  peace  are  settled,  allow  me  to  sign  the  treaty 
for  both." 

And  the  Prince  swallowed  the  tart  with  the  best  grace 
imaginable. 

"It  is  delicious,"  said  he. 

"I  perceive  you  are  a  connoisseur,"  replied  the  young 
man. 

Colonel  Geraldine  likewise  did  honor  to  the  pastry;  and 
every  one  in  that  bar  having  now  either  accepted  or  re- 
fused his  delicacies,  the  young  man  with  the  cream  tarts 
led  the  way  to  another  and  similar  establishment.  The 
two  commissionaires,  who  seemed  to  have  grown  accus- 
tomed to  their  absurd  employment,  followed  immediately 
after;  and  the  Prince  and  the  Colonel  brought  up  the 
rear,  arm  in  arm,  and  smiling  to  each  other  as  they  went. 
In  this  order  the  company  visited  two  other  taverns,  where 
scenes  were  enacted  of  a  like  nature  to  that  already  de- 
scribed— some  refusing,  some  accepting,  the  favors  of 
this  vagabond  hospftajtiry,  and  the  young  man  himself 
eating  each  rejected  feart. 

On  leaving  the  third  saloon  the  young  man  counted  his 
store.  There  were  but  nine  remaining,  three  in  one  tray 
and  six  in  the  other. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  he,  addressing  himself  to  his  two 
new  followers,  "I  am  unwilling  to  delay  your  supper.  I 
am  positively  sure  you  must  be  hungry.  I  feel  that  I  owe 
you  a  special  consideration.  And  on  this  great  day  for 
me,  when  I  am  closing  a  career  of  folly  by  my  most  con- 
spicuously silly  action,  I  wish  to  behave  handsomely  to  all 
who  give  me  countenance.  Gentlemen,  you  shall  wait  no 
longer.  Although  my  constitution  is  shattered  by  previous 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  7 

excesses,  at  the  risk  of  my  life  I  liquidate  the  suspensory 
condition." 

With  these  words  he  crushed  the  nine  remaining  tarts 
into  his  mouth,  and  swallowed  them  at  a  single  movement 
each.  Then,  turning  to  the  commissionaires,  he  gave 
them  a  couple  of  sovereigns. 

"I  have  to  thank  you,  "said  he,  "for  your  extraordinary 
patience." 

And  he  dismissed  them  with  a  bow  apiece.  For  some 
seconds  he  stood  looking  at  the  purse  from  which  he  had 
just  paid  his  assistants,  then,  with  a  laugh,  he  tossed  it 
into  the  middle  of  the  street,  and  signified  his  readiness 
for  supper. 

In  a  small  French  restaurant  in  Soho,  which  had  enjoyed 
an  exaggerated  reputation  for  some  little  while,  but  had 
already  begun  to  be  forgotten,  and  in  a  private  room  up 
two  pair  of  stairs,  the  three  companions  made  a  very  ele- 
gant supper,  and  drank  three  or  four  bottles  of  champagne, 
talking  the  while  upon  indifferent  subjects.  The  young 
man  was  fluent  and  gay,  but  he  laughed  louder  than  was 
natural  in  a  person  of  polite  breed  ing;  his  hands  trembled 
violently,  and  his  voice  took  sudden  and  surprising  inflec- 
tions, which  seemed  to  be  independent  of  his  will.  The 
dessert  had  been  cleared  away,  and  all  three  had  lighted 
their  cigars,  when  the  Prince  addressed  him  in  these 
words: 

"You  will,  I  am  sure,  pardon  my  curiosity.  What  I 
have  seen  of  you  has  greatly  pleased  but  even  more  puzzled 
me.  And  though  I  should  be  loth  to  seem  indiscreet,  I 
must  tell  you  that  my  friend  and  I  are  persons  very  well 
worthy  to  be  entrusted  with  a  secret.  We  have  many  of 
our  own,  which  we  are  continually  revealing  to  improper 
ears.  And  if,  as  I  suppose,  your  story  is  a  silly  one,  you 
need  have  no  delicacy  with  us,  who  are  two  of  the  silliest 


8  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

men  in  England.  My  name  is  Godall,  Theophilus  Godall; 
my  friend  is  Major  Alfred  Hammersmith — or  at  least, 
such  is  the  name  by  which  he  chooses  to  be  known.  We 
pass  our  lives  entirely  in  the  search  for  extravagant  ad- 
ventures; and  there  is  no  extravagance  with  which  we 
are  not  capable  of  sympathy. ' ' 

"I  like  you,  Mr.  Godall,"  returned  the  young  man; 
"you  inspire  me  with  a  natural  confidence;  and  I  have 
not  the  slightest  objection  to  your  friend,  the  Major; 
whom  I  take  to  be  a  nobleman  in  masquerade.  At  least, 
I  am  sure  he  is  no  soldier." 

The  Colonel  smiled  at  this  compliment  to  the  perfection 
of  his  art;  and  the  young  man  went  on  in  a  more  animated 
manner. 

"There  is  every  reason  why  I  should  not  tell  you  my 
story.  Perhaps  that  is  just  the  reason  why  I  am  going  to 
do  so.  At  least,  you  seem  so  well  prepared  to  hear  a  tale 
of  silliness  that  I  cannot  find  it  in  my  heart  to  disappoint 
you.  My  name,  in  spite  of  your  example,  I  shall  keep  to 
myself.  My  age  is  not  essential  to  the  narrative.  I  am 
descended  from  my  ancestors  by  ordinary  generation,  and 
from  them  I  inherited  the  very  eligible  human  tenement 
which  I  still  occupy  and  a  fortune  of  three  hundred  pounds 
a  year.  I  suppose  they  also  handed  on  to  me  a  hare-brain 
humor,  which  it  has  been  my  chief  delight  to  indulge.  I 
received  a  good  education.  I  can  play  the  violin  nearly 
well  enough  to  earn  money  in  the  orchestra  of  a  penny 
gaff,  but  not  quite.  The  same  remark  applies  to  the  flute 
and  the  French  horn.  I  learned  enough  of  whist  to  lose 
about  a  hundred  a  year  at  that  scientific  game.  My  ac- 
quaintance with  French  was  sufficient  to  enable  me  to 
squander  money  in  Paris  with  almost  the  same  facility  as 
in  London.  In  short,  I  am  a  person  full  of  manly  accom- 
plishments. I  have  had  every  sort  of  adventure,  including 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  9 

a  duel  about  nothing.  Only  two  months  ago  I  met  a 
young  lady  exactly  suited  to  my  taste  in  mind  and  body; 
I  found  my  heart  melt;  I  saw  that  I  had  come  upon  my 
fate  at  last,  and  was  in  the  way  to  fall  in  love.  But  when 
I  came  to  reckon  up  what  remained  to  me  of  my  capital, 
I  found  it  amounted  to  something  less  than  four  hundred 
pounds!  I  ask  you  fairly — can  a  man  who  respects  him- 
self fall  in  love  on  four  hundred  pounds?  I  concluded, 
certainly  not;  left  the  presence  of  my  charmer,  and 
slightly  accelerating  my  usual  rate  of  expenditure,  came 
this  morning  to  my  last  eighty  pounds.  This  I  divided 
into  two  equal  parts;  forty  I  reserved  for  a  particular 
purpose;  the  remaining  forty  I  was  to  dissipate  before 
the  night.  I  have  passed  a  very  entertaining  day,  and 
played  many  farces  besides  that  of  the  cream  tarts  which 
procured  me  the  advantage  of  your  acquaintance;  for  I 
was  determined,  as  I  told  you,  to  bring  a  foolish  career 
to  a  still  more  foolish  conclusion;  and  when  you  saw  me 
throw  my  purse  into  the  street,  the  forty  pounds  were  at 
an  end.  Now  you  know  me  as  well  as  I  know  myself:  a 
fool  but  consistent  in  his  folly;  and,  as  I  will  ask  you  to 
believe,  neither  a  whimperer  nor  a  coward." 

From  the  whole  tone  of  the  young  man's  statement  it 
was  plain  that  he  harbored  very  bitter  and  contemptuous 
thoughts  about  himself.  His  auditors  were  led  to  imagine 
that  his  love  affair  was  nearer  his  heart  than  he  admitted, 
and  that  he  had  a  design  on  his  own  life.  The  farce  of 
the  cream  tarts  began  to  have  very  much  the  air  of  a 
tragedy  in  disguise. 

"Why,  is  this  not  odd,"  broke  out  Geraldine,  giving  a 
look  to  Prince  Florizel,  "that  [we  three  fellows  should 
have  met  by  the  merest  accident  in  so  large  a  wilderness 
as  London,  and  should  be  so  nearly  in  the  same  condition?" 

"How?"  cried  the  young  man.    "Are  you,  too,  ruined? 


10  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

Is  this  supper  a  folly  like  my  cream  tarts?  Has  the  devil 
brought  three  of  his  own  together  for  a  last  carouse?" 

"The  devil,  depend  upon  it,  can  sometimes  do  a  very 
gentlemanly  thing, "  returned  Prince  Florizel;  "and  I  am 
so  much  touched  by  this  coincidence,  that,  although  we 
are  not  entirely  in  the  same  case,  I  am  going  to  put  an 
end  to  the  disparity.  Let  your  heroic  treatment  of  the 
last  cream  tarts  be  my  example. ' ' 

So  saying,  the  Prince  drew  out  his  purse  and  took  from 
it  a  small  bundle  of  bank-notes. 

"You  see,  I  was  a  week  or  so  behind  you,  but  I  mean 
to  catch  you  up  and  come  neck  and  neck  into  the  winning- 
post,"  he  continued.  "This,"  laying  one  of  the  notes 
upon  the  table,  will  suffice  for  the  bill.  As  for  the 
rest " 

He  tossed  them  into  the  fire,  and  they  went  up  the 
chimney  in  a  single  blaze. 

The  young  man  tried  to  catch  his  arm,  but  as  the  table 
was  between  them  his  interference  came  too  late. 

"Unhappy  man,"  he  cried,  "you  should  not  have  burned 
them  all !  You  should  have  kept  forty  pounds. ' ' 

"Forty  pounds!"  repeated  the  Prince.  "Why,  in 
heaven's  name,  forty  pounds?" 

"Why  not  eighty?"  cried  the  Colonel;  "for  to  my  cer- 
tain knowledge  there  must  have  been  a  hundred  in  the 
bundle." 

"It  was  only  forty  pounds  he  needed,"  said  the  young 
man  gloomily.  "But  without  them  there  is  no  admission. 
The  rule  is  strict.  Forty  pounds  for  each.  Accursed 
life,  where  a  man  cannot  even  die  without  money!" 

The  Prince  and  the  Colonel  exchanged  glances. 

"Explain  yourself,"  said  the  latter.  "I  have  still  a 
pocket-book  tolerably  well  lined,  and  I  need  not  say  how 
readily  I  would  share  my  wealth  with  Godall.  But  I  must 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  11 

know  to  what  end;  you  must  certainly  tell  us  what  you 
mean." 

The  young  man  seemed  to  awaken;  he  looked  uneasily 
from  one  to  the  other,  and  his  face  flushed  deeply. 

"You  are  not  fooling  me?"  he  asked.  "You  are  indeed 
ruined  men  like  me?" 

"Indeed,  I  am  for  my  part,"  replied  the  Colonel. 

"And  for  mine,"  said  the  Prince,  "I  have  given  you 
proof.  Who  but  a  ruined  man  would  throw  his  notes  into 
the  fire?  The  action  speaks  for  itself." 

"A ruined  man — yes,"  returned  the  other  suspiciously, 
"or  else  a  millionaire." 

"Enough,  sir,"  said  the  Prince;  "I  have  said  so,  and  I 
am  not  accustomed  to  have  my  word  remain  in  doubt." 

"Ruined?"  said  the  young  man.  "Are  you  ruined, 
like  me?  Are  you,  after  a  life  of  indulgence,  come  to 
such  a  pass  that  you  can  only  indulge  yourself  in  one 
thing  more?  Are  you" — he  kept  lowering  his  voice  as 
he  went  on — "are  you  going  to  give  yourselves  that  last 
indulgence!  Are  you  going  to  avoid  the  consequences  of 
your  folly  by  the  one  infallible  and  easy  path?  Are  you 
going  to  give  the  slip  to  the  sheriff's  officers  of  conscience 
by  the  one  open  door?" 

Suddenly  he  broke  off  and  attempted  to  laugh. 

"Here  is  your  health!"  he  cried,  emptying  his  glass, 
"and  good  night  to  you,  my  merry  ruined  men." 

Colonel  Geraldine  caught  him  by  the  arm  as  he  was 
about  to  rise. 

"You  lack  confidence  in  us,"  he  said,  "and  you  are 
wrong.  To  all  your  questions  I  make  answer  in  the 
affirmative.  But  I  am  not  so  timid,  and  can  speak  the 
Queen's  English  plainly.  We,  too,  like  yourself,  have 
had  enough  of  life,  and  are  determined  to  die.  Sooner 
or  later,  alone  or  together .  we  meant  to  seek  out  death 


12  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

and  beard  him  where  he  lies  ready.  Since  we  have  met 
you,  and  your  case  is  more  pressing,  let  it  be  to-night — 
and  at  once — and,  if  you  will,  all  three  together.  Such  a 
penniless  trio,"  he  cried,  "should  go  arm  in  arm  into  the 
halls  of  Pluto,  and  give  each  other  some  countenance 
among  the  shades!" 

Geraldine  had  hit  exactly  on  the  manners  and  intona- 
tions that  became  the  part  he  was  playing.  The  Prince 
himself  was  disturbed,  and  looked  over  at  his  confidant 
with  a  shade  of  doubt.  As  for  the  young  man,  the  flush 
came  back  darkly  into  his  cheek,  and  his  eyes  threw  out  a 
spark  of  light. 

"You  are  the  men  for  me!"  he  cried,  with  an  almost 
terrible  gayety.  "Shake  hands  upon  the  bargain!"  (his 
hand  was  cold  and  wet).  "You  little  know  in  what  a 
company  you  will  begin  the  march!  You  little  know  in 
what  a  happy  moment  for  yourselves  you  partook  of  my 
cream  tarts!  I  am  only  a  unit,  but  I  am  a  unit  in  an 
army.  I  know  Death's  private  door.  I  am  one  of  his 
familiars,  and  can  show  you  into  eternity  without  cere- 
mony and  yet  without  scandal." 

They  called  upon  him  eagerly  to  explain  his  meaning. 

"Can  you  muster  eighty  pounds  between  you?"  he 
demanded. 

Geraldine  ostentatiously  consulted  his  pocket-book,  and 
replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"Fortunate  beings!"  cried  the  young  man.  "Forty 
pounds  is  the  entry  money  of  the  Suicide  Club." 

"The  Suicide  Club,"  said  the  Prince,  "why,  what  the 
devil  is  that?" 

"Listen,"  said  the  young  man;  "this  is  the  age  of 
conveniences,  and  I  have  to  tell  you  of  the  last  perfection 
of  the  sort.  We  have  affairs  in  different  places;  and 
hence  railways  were  invented.  Railways  separated  us 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  13 

infallibly  from  our  friends;  and  so  telegraphs  were  made 
that  we  might  communicate  speedily  at  great  distances. 
Even  in  hotels  we  have  lifts  to  spare  us  a  climb  of  some 
hundred  steps.  Now,  we  know  that  life  is  only  a  stage 
to  playjthe  fool  upon  as  long  as  the  part  amuses  us.  There 
was  one  more  convenience  lacking  to  modern  comfort;  a 
decent,  easy  way  to  quit  that  stage;  the  back  stairs  to 
liberty;  or,  as  I  said  this  moment,  Death's  private  door. 
This,  my  two  fellow-rebels,  is  supplied  by  the  Suicide 
Club.  Do  not  suppose  that  you  and  I  are  alone,  or  even 
exceptional,  in  the  highly  reasonable  desire  that  we  pro- 
fess. A  large  number  of  our  fellow-men,  who  have  grown 
heartily  sick  of  the  performance  in  which  they  are  ex- 
pected to  join  daily  and  all  their  lives  long,  are  only  kept 
from  flight  by  one  or  two  considerations.  Some  have 
families  who  would  be  shocked,  or  even  blamed,  if  the 
matter  became  public;  others  have  a  weakness  at  heart 
and  recoil  from  the  circumstances  of  death.  That  is,  to 
some  extent,  my  own  experience.  I  cannot  put  a  pistol 
to  my  head  and  draw  the  trigger;  for  something  stronger 
than  myself  withholds  the  act;  and  although  I  loathe  life, 
I  have  not  strength  enough  in  my  body  to  take  hold  of 
death  and  be  done  with  it.  For  such  as  I,  and  for  all  who 
desire  to  be  out  of  the  coil  without  posthumous  scandal, 
the  Suicide  Club  has  been  inaugurated.  How  this  has 
been  managed,  what  is  its  history,  or  what  may  be  its 
ramifications  in  other  lands,  I  am  myself  uninformed;  and 
what  I  know  of  its  constitution,  I  am  not  at  liberty  to 
communicate  to  you.  To  this  extent,  however,  I  am  at 
your  service.  If  you  are  truly  tired  of  life,  I  will  intro- 
duce you  to-night  to  a  meeting;  and  if  not  to-night,  at 
least  some  time  within  the  week,  you  will  be  easily  re- 
lieved of  your  existences.  It  is  now  (consulting  his  watch) 
eleven;  by  half-past,  at  latest,  we  must  leave  this  place; 


14  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

so  that  you  have  half  an  hour  before  you  to  consider  my 
proposal.  It  is  more  serious  than  a  cream  tart,"  he 
added,  with  a  smile;  "and  I  suspect  more  palatable." 

"More  serious,  certainly,"  returned  Colonel  Geraldine; 
"and  as  it  is  so  much  more  so,  will  you  allow  me  five 
minutes'  speech  in  private  with  my  friend,  Mr.  Godall?" 

"It  is  only  fair,"  answered  the  young  man.  "If  you 
will  permit,  I  will  retire." 

"You  will  be  very  obliging,"  said  the  Colonel. 

As  soon  as  the  two  were  alone — "What,"  said  Prince 
Florizel,  "is  the  use  of  this  confabulation,  Geraldine?  I 
see  you  are  flurried,  whereas  my  mind  is  very  tranquilly 
made  up.  I  will  see  the  end  of  this." 

"Your  Highness,"  said  the  Colonel,  turning  pale;  "let 
me  ask  you  to  consider  the  importance  of  your  life,  not 
only  to  your  friends,  but  to  the  public  interest.  'If  not 
to-night,'  said  this  madman;  but  supposing  that  to-night 
some  irreparable  disaster  were  to  overtake  your  Highness's 
person,  what,  let  me  ask  you,  what  would  be  my  despair, 
and  what  the  concern  and  disaster  of  a  great  nation?" 

"I  will  see  the  end  of  this,"  repeated  the  Prince  in  his 
most  deliberate  tones;  "and  have  the  kindness,  Colonel 
Geraldine,  to  remember  and  respect  your  word  of  honor 
as  a  gentleman.  Under  no  circumstances,  recollect,  nor 
without  my  special  authority,  are  you  to  betray  the  in- 
cognito under  which  I  choose  to  go  abroad.  These  were 
my  commands,  which  I  now  reiterate.  And  now,"  he 
added,  "let  me  ask  you  to  call  for  the  bill." 

Colonel  Geraldine  bowed  in  submission;  but  he  had  a 
very  white  face  as  he  summoned  the  young  man  of  the 
cream  tarts,  and  issued  his  directions  to  the  waiter.  The 
Prince  preserved  his  undisturbed  demeanor,  and  described 
a  Palais  Royal  farce  to  the  young  suicide  with  great  humor 
and  gusto.  He  avoided  the  Colonel's  appealing  looks 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  15 

without  ostentation,  and  selected  another  cneroot  with 
more  than  usual  care.  Indeed,  he  was  now  the  only  man 
of  the  party  who  kept  any  command  over  his  nerves. 

The  bill  was  discharged,  the  Prince  giving  the  whole 
change  of  the  note  to  the  astonished  waiter;  and  the  three 
drove  off  in  a  four  wheeler.  They  were  not  long  upon  the 
way  before  the  cab  stopped  at  the  entrance  to  a  rather 
dark  court.  Here  all  descended. 

After  Geraldine  had  paid  the  fare,  the  young  man 
turned,  and  addressed  Prince  Florizel  as  follows: 

"It  is  still  time,  Mr.  Godall,  to  make  good  your  escape 
into  thralldom.  And  for  you  too,  Major  Hammersmith. 
Reflect  well  before  you  take  another  step;  and  if  your 
hearts  say  no — here  are  the  cross-roads. ' ' 

"Lead  on,  sir,"  said  the  Prince.  "I  am  not  the  man 
to  go  back  from  a  thing  once  said." 

"Your  coolness  does  me  good,"  replied  their  guide. 
"I  have  never  seen  anyone  so  unmoved  at  this  conjunc- 
ture; and  yet  you  are  not  the  first  whom  I  have  escorted 
to  this  door.  More  than  one  of  my  friends  has  preceded 
me,  where  I  knew  I  must  shortly  follow.  But  this  is  of 
no  interest  to  you.  Wait  me  here  for  only  a  few  mo- 
ments; I  shall  return  as  soon  as  I  have  arranged  the 
preliminaries  of  your  introduction." 

And  with  that  the  young  man,  waving  his  hand  to  his 
companions,  turned  into  the  court,  entered  a  doorway 
and  disappeared. 

"Of  all  our  follies,"  said  Colonel  Geraldine  in  a  low 
voice,  "this  is  the  wildest  and  most  dangerous." 

"I  perfectly  believe  so,"  returned  the  Prince. 

"We  have  still, "  pursued  the  Colonel,  "a  moment  to 
ourselves.  Let  me  beseech  your  Highness  to  profit  by  the 
opportunity  and  retire.  The  consequences  of  this  step 
are  so  dark,  and  may  be  so  grave,  that  I  feel  myself  jus- 


16  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

tified  in  pushing  a  little  farther  than  usual  the  liberty 
which  your  Highness  is  so  condescending  as  to  allow  me 
in  private." 

"Am  I  to  understand  that  Colonel  Geraldine  is  afraid?" 
asked  his  Highness,  taking  his  cheroot  from  his  lips,  and 
looking  keenly  into  the  other's  face. 

"My  fear  is  certainly  not  personal,"  replied  the 
other  proudly;  "of  that  your  Highness  may  rest  well 
assured." 

"I  had  supposed  as  much,"  returned  the  Prince,  with 
undisturbed  good  humor;  "but  I  was  unwilling  to  remind 
you  of  the  difference  in  our  stations.  No  more — no 
more,"  he  added,  seeing  Geraldine  about  to  apologize, 
"you  stand  excused." 

And  he  smoked  placidly,  leaning  against  a  railing,  until 
the  young  man  returned. 

"Well,"  he  asked,  "has  our  reception  been  arranged?" 

"Follow  me,"  was  the  reply.  "The  President  will  see 
you  in  the  cabinet.  And  let  me  warn  you  to  be  frank  in 
your  answers.  I  have  stood  your  guarantee;  but  the  club 
requires  a  searching  inquiry  before  admission;  for  the 
indiscretion  of  a  single  member  would  lead  to  the  dis- 
persion of  the  whole  society  forever." 

The  Prince  and  Geraldine  put  their  heads  together  for 
a  moment.  "Bear  me  out  in  this,"  said  the  one;  and 
"bear  me  out  in  that,"  said  the  other;  and  by  boldly 
taking  up  the  characters  of  men  with  whom  both  were 
acquainted,  they  had  come  to  an  agreement  in  a  twink- 
ling, and  were  ready  to  follow  their  guide  into  the 
President's  cabinet. 

There  were  no  formidable  obstacles  to  pass.  The  outer 
door  stood  open;  the  door  of  the  cabinet  was  ajar;  and 
there,  in  a  small  but  very  high  apartment,  the  young  man 
left  them  once  more. 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  17 

"He  will  be  here  immediately,"  he  said  with  a  nod,  as 
he  disappeared. 

Voices  were  audible  in  the  cabinet  through  the  folding- 
doors  which  formed  one  end;  and  now  and  then  the  noise 
of  a  champagne  cork,  followed  by  a  burst  of  laughter, 
intervened  among  the  sounds  of  conversation.  A  single 
tall  window  looked  out  upon  the  river  and  the  embank- 
ment; and  by  the  disposition  of  the  lights  they  judged 
themselves  not  far  from  Charing  Cross  station.  The  fur- 
niture was  scanty,  and  the  coverings  worn  to  the  thread ; 
and  there  was  nothing  movable  except  a  hand-bell  in  the 
centre  of  a  round  table,  and  the  hats  and  coats  of  a 
considerable  party  hung  round  the  wall  on  pegs. 

"What  sort  of  a  den  is  this?"  said  Geraldine. 

"That  is  what  I  have  come  to  see,"  replied  the  Prince. 
"If  they  keep  live  devils  on  the  premises,  the  thing  may 
grow  amusing." 

Just  then  the  folding  door  was  opened  no  more  than 
was  necessary  for  the  passage  of  a  human  body;  and  there 
entered  at  the  same  moment  a  louder  buzz  of  talk,  and 
the  redoubtable  President  of  the  Suicide  Club.  The 
President  was  a  man  of  fifty  or  upwards;  large  and  ram- 
bling in  his  gait,  with  shaggy  side-whiskers,  a  bald  top 
to  his  head,  and  a  veiled  gray  eye,  which  now  and  then 
emitted  a  twinkle.  His  mouth,  which  embraced  a  large 
cigar,  he  kept  continually  screwing  round  and  round  and 
from  side  to  side,  as  he  looked  sagaciously  and  coldly  at 
the  strangers.  He  was  dressed  in  light  tweeds,  with  his 
neck  very  open,  in  a  striped  shirt  collar;  and  carried  a 
minute  book  under  one  arm. 

"Good  evening,"  said  he,  after  he  had  closed  the  door 
behind  him.  "I  am  told  you  wish  to  speak  with  me." 

"We  have  a  desire,  sir,  to  join  the  Suicide  Club," 
replied  the  Colonel. 


18  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

The  President  rolled  his  cigar  about  in  his  mouth. 

"What  is  that?"  he  said  abruptly. 

"Pardon  me,"  returned  the  Colonel,  "but  I  believe  you 
are  the  person  best  qualified  to  give  us  information  on 
that  point." 

"I?"  cried  the  President.  "A  Suicide  Club?  Come, 
come!  this  is  a  frolic  for  All  Fools'  Day.  I  can  make 
allowances  for  gentlemen  who  get  merry  in  their  liquor ; 
but  let  there  be  an  end  to  this. ' ' 

"Call  your  Club  what  you  will,"  said  the  Colonel,  "you 
have  some  company  behind  these  doors,  and  we  insist  on 
joining  it." 

"Sir,"  returned  the  President,  curtly,  "you  have  made 
a  mistake.  This  is  a  private  house,  and  you  must  leave  it 
instantly. ' ' 

The  Prince  had  remained  quietly  in  his  seat  throughout 
this  little  colloquy;  but  now,  when  the  Colonel  looked  over 
to  him,  as  much  as  to  say,  "Take  your  answer  and  come 
away,  for  God's  sake!"  he  drew  his  cheroot  from  his 
mouth,  and  spoke: 

"I  have  come  here,"  said  he,  "upon  the  invitation  of  a 
friend  of  yours.  He  has  doubtless  informed  you  of  my 
intention  in  thus  intruding  on  your  party.  Let  me  remind 
you  that  a  person  in  my  circumstances  has  exceedingly 
little  to  bind  him,  and  is  not  at  all  likely  to  tolerate  much 
rudeness.  I  am  a  very  quiet  man,  as  a  usual  thing;  but, 
my  dear  sir,  you  are  either  going  to  oblige  me  in  the 
little  matter  of  which  you  are  aware,  or  you  shall  very 
bitterly  repent  that  you  ever  admitted  me  to  your  ante- 
chamber." 

The  President  laughed  aloud. 

"That  is  the  way  to  speak,"  said  he.  "You  are  a  man 
who  is  a  man.  You  know  the  way  to  my  heart,  and  can 
do  what  you  like  with  me.  Will  you,"  he  continued, 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  19 

addressing  Geraldine,  "will  you  step  aside  for  a  few 
minutes?  I  shall  finish  first  with  your  companion,  and 
some  of  the  club's  formalities  require  to  be  fulfilled  in 
private." 

With  these  words  he  opened  the  door  of  a  small  closet, 
into  which  he  shut  the  Colonel. 

"I  believe  in  you,"  he  said  to  Florizel,  as  soon  as  they 
were  alone;  "but] are  you  sure  of  your  friend?" 

"Not  so  sure  as  I  am  of  myself,  though  he  has  more 
cogent  reasons,"  answered  Florizel,  "but  sure  enough  to 
bring  him  here  without  alarm.  He  has  had  enough  to 
cure  the  most  tenacious  man  of  life.  He  was  cashiered 
the  other  day  for  cheating  at  cards. ' ' 

"A  good  reason,  I  daresay,"  replied  the  President;  "at 
least,  we  have  another  in  the  same  case,  and  I  feel  sure 
of  him.  Have  you  also  been  in  the  Service,  may  I  ask?" 

"I  have,"  was  the  reply;  "but  I  was  too  lazy,  I  left  it 
early." 

"What  is  your  reason  for  being  tired  of  life?"  pursued 
the  President. 

"The  same,  as  near  as  I  can  make  out,"  answered  the 
Prince;  "unadulterated  laziness." 

The  President  started.  "D n  it,"  said  he,  "you 

must  have  something  better  than  that. ' ' 

"I  have  no  more  money,"  added  Florizel.  "That  is 
also  a  vexation,  without  doubt.  It  brings  my  sense  of 
idleness  to  an  acute  point." 

The  President  rolled  his  cigar  round  in  his  mouth  for 
some  seconds,  directing  his  gaze  straight  into  the  eyes  of 
this  unusual  neophyte;  but  the  Prince  supported  his 
scrutiny  with  unabashed  good  temper. 

"If  I  had  not  a  deal  of  experience,"  said  the  President 
at  last,  "I  should  turn  you  off.  But  I  know  the  world; 
and  this  much  any  way,  that  the  most  frivolous  excuses 


20  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

for  a  suicide  are  often  the  toughest  to  stand  by.  And 
when  I  downright  like  a  man,  as  I  do  you,  sir,  I  would 
rather  strain  the  regulation  than  deny  him." 

The  Prince  and  the  Colonel,  one  after  the  other,  were 
subjected  to  a  long  and  particular  interrogatory — the 
Prince  alone;  but  Geraldine  in  the  presence  of  the  Prince, 
so  that  the  President  might  observe  the  countenance  of 
the  one  while  the  other  was  being  warmly  cross-examined. 
The  result  was  satisfactory;  and  the  President,  after  hav- 
ing booked  a  few  details  of  each  case,  produced  a  form  of 
oath  to  be  accepted.  Nothing  could  be  conceived  more 
passive  than  the  obedience  promised,  or  more  stringent 
than  the  terms  by  which  the  juror  bound  himself.  The 
man  who  forfeited  a  pledge  so  awful  could  scarcely  have 
a  rag  of  honor  or  any  of  the  consolations  of  religion  left 
to  him.  Florizel  signed  the  document,  but  not  without  a 
shudder;  the  Colonel  followed  his  example  with  an  air  of 
great  depression.  Then  the  President  received  the  entry 
money;  and  without  more  ado,  introduced  the  two  friends 
into  the  smoking-room  of  the  Suicide  Club. 

The  smoking-room  of  the  Suicide  Club  was  the  same 
height  as  the  cabinet  into  which  it  opened,  but  much 
larger,  and  papered  from  top  to  bottom  with  an  imitation 
of  oak  wainscot.  A  large  and  cheerful  fire  and  a  number 
of  gasjets  illuminated  the  company.  The  Prince  and  his 
follower  made  the  number  up  to  eighteen.  Most  of  the 
party  were  smoking,  and  drinking  champagne;  a  fever- 
ish hilarity  reigned,  with  sudden  and  rather  ghastly 
pauses. 

"Is  this  a  full  meeting?"  asked  the  Prince. 

"Middling,"  said  the  President.  "By  the  way,"  he 
added,  "if  you  have  any  money,  it  is  usual  to  offer  some 
champagne.  It  keeps  up  a  good  spirit,  and  is  one  of  my 
own  little  perquisites." 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  21 

"Hammersmith,"  said  Florizel,  "I  may  leave  the 
champagne  to  you. ' ' 

And  with  that  he  turned  away  and  began  to  go  round 
among  the  guests.  Accustomed  to  play  the  host  in  the 
highest  circles,  he  charmed  and  dominated  all  whom  he 
approached;  there  was  something  at  once  winning  and 
authoritative  in  his  address;  and  his  extraordinary  cool- 
ness gave  him  yet  another  distinction  in  this  half  mani- 
acal society.  As  he  went  from  one  to  another  he  kept 
both  his  eyes  and  ears  open,  and  soon  began  to  gain  a 
general  idea  of  the  people  among  whom  he  found  himself. 
As  in  all  other  places  of  resort,  one  type  predominated : 
people  in  the  prime  of  youth,  with  every  show  of  intelli- 
gence and  sensibility  in  their  appearance,  but  with  little 
promise  of  strength  or  the  quality  that  makes  success. 
Few  were  much  above  thirty,  and  not  a  few  were  still  in 
their  teens.  They  stood,  leaning  on  tables  and  shifting 
on  their  feet;  sometimes  they  smoked  extraordinarily  fast, 
and  sometimes  they  let  their  cigars  go  out;  some  talked 
well,  but  the  conversation  of  others  was  plainly  the  result 
of  nervous  tension,  and  was  equally  without  wit  or  pur- 
port. As  each  new  bottle  of  champagne  was  opened, 
there  was  a  manifest  improvement  in  gaiety.  Only  two 
were  seated — one  in  a  chair  in  the  recess  of  the  window, 
with  his  head  hanging  and  his  hands  plunged  deep  into 
his  trouser  pockets,  pale,  visibly  moist  with  perspiration, 
saying  never  a  word,  a  very  wreck  of  soul  and  body;  the 
other  sat  on  the  divan  close  by  the  chimney,  and  attracted 
notice  by  a  trenchant  dissimilarity  from  all  the  rest.  He 
was  probably  upwards  of  forty,  but  he  looked  fully  ten 
years  older;  and  Florizel  thought  he  had  never  seen  a  man 
more  naturally  hideous,  nor  one  more  ravaged  by  disease 
and  ruinous  excitements.  He  was  no  more  than  skin  and 
bone,  was  partly  paralyzed,  and  wore  spectacles  of  such 


22  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

unusual  power,  that  his  eyes  appeared  through  the  glasses 
greatly  magnified  and  distorted  in  shape.  Except  the 
Prince  and  the  President,  he  was  the  only  person  in  the 
room  who  preserved  the  composure  of  ordinary  life. 

There  was  little  decency  among  the  members  of  the 
club.  Some  boasted  of  the  disgraceful  actions,  the  con- 
sequences of  which  had  reduced  them  to  seek  refuge  in 
death;  and  the  others  listened  without  disapproval.  There 
was  a  tacit  understanding  against  moral  judgments;  and 
whoever  passed  the  club  doors  enjoyed  already  some  of 
the  immunities  of  the  tomb.  They  drank  to  each  other's 
memories,  and  to  those  of  notable  suicides  in  the  past. 
They  compared  and  developed  their  different  views  of 
death — some  declaring  that  it  was  no  more  than  blackness 
and  cessation;  others  full  of  a  hope  that  that  very  night 
they  should  be  scaling  the  stars  and  commercing  with  the 
mighty  dead. 

"To  the  eternal  memory  of  Baron  Trenck,  the  type 
of  suicides!"  cried  one.  "He  went  out  of  a  small  cell 
into  a  smaller,  that  he  might  come  forth  again  to  free- 
dom." 

"For  my  part,"  said  a  second,  "I  wish  no  more  than  a 
bandage  for  my  eyes  and  cotton  for  my  ears.  Only  they 
have  no  cotton  thick  enough  in  this  world." 

A  third  was  for  reading  the  mysteries  of  life  in  a  future 
state;  and  a  fourth  professed  that  he  would  never  have 
joined  the  club,  if  he  had  not  been  induced  to  believe  in 
Mr.  Darwin. 

"I  could  not  bear,"  said  this  remarkable  suicide,  "to 
be  descended  from  an  ape. ' ' 

Altogether,  the  Prince  was  disappointed  by  the  bearing 
and  conversation  of  the  members. 

"It  does  not  seem  to  me,"  he  thought,  "a  matter  for  so 
much  disturbance.  If  a  man  has  made  up  his  mind  to 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  23 

kill  himself,  let  him  do  it,  in  God's  name,  like  a  gentle- 
man. This  flutter  and  big  talk  is  out  of  place. ' ' 

In  the  meanwhile  Colonel  Geraldine  was  a  prey  to  the 
blackest  apprehensions;  the  club  and  its  rules  were  still  a 
mystery,  and  he  looked  round  the  room  for  some  one  who 
should  be  able  to  set  his  mind  at  rest.  In  this  survey  his 
eye  lighted  on  the  paralytic  person  with  the  strong  spec- 
tacles; and  seeing  him  so  exceedingly  tranquil,  he  besought 
the  President,  who  was  going  in  and  out  of  the  room  under 
a  pressure  of  business,  to  present  him  to  the  gentleman  on 
the  divan. 

The  functionary  explained  the  needlessness  of  all  such 
formalities  within  the  club,  but  nevertheless  presented 
Mr.  Hammersmith  to  Mr.  Malthus. 

Mr.  Malthus  looked  at  the  Colonel  curiously,  and  then 
requested  him  to  take  a  seat  upon  his  right. 

"You  are  a  newcomer,"  he  said,  "and  wish  informa- 
tion? You  have  come  to  the  proper  source.  It  is  two 
years  since  I  first  visited  this  charming  club. ' ' 

The  Colonel  breathed  again.  If  Mr.  Malthus  had  fre- 
quented the  place  for  two  years  there  could  be  little 
danger  for  the  Prince  in  a  single  evening.  But  Geraldine 
was  none  the  less  astonished,  and  began  to  suspect  a 
mystification. 

'  'What ! ' '  cried  he,  "two  years !  I  thought — but  indeed 
I  see  I  have  been  made  the  subject  of  a  pleasantry. ' ' 

"By  no  means,"  replied  Mr.  Malthus  mildly.  "My 
case  is  peculiar.  I  am  not,  properly  speaking,  a  suicide 
at  all;  but,  as  it  were,  an  honorary  member.  I  rarely 
visit  the  club  twice  in  two  months.  My  infirmity  and 
the  kindness  of  the  President  have  procured  me  these  little 
immunities,  for  which  besides  I  pay  at  an  advanced  rate. 
Even  as  it  is  my  luck  has  been  extraordinary." 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  the  Colonel,  "that  I  must  ask  you 


24  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

to  be  more  explicit.  You  must  remember  that  I  am  still 
most  imperfectly  acquainted  with  the  rules  of  the  club." 

"An  ordinary  member  who  comes  here  in  search  of 
death  like  yourself ,"  replied  the  paralytic,  "returns  every 
evening  until  fortune  favors  him.  He  can,  even  if  he  is 
penniless,  get  board  and  lodging  from  the  President — very 
fair,  I  believe,  and  clean,  although,  of  course,  not  luxuri- 
ous; that  could  hardly  be,  considering  the  exiguity  (if  I 
may  so  express  myself)  of  the  subscription.  And  then  the 
President's  company  is  a  delicacy  in  itself." 

"Indeed!"  cried  Geraldine,  "he  had  not  greatly  pre- 
possessed me." 

"Ah!"  said  Mr.  Malthus,  "you  do  not  know  the  man: 
the  drollest  fellow!  What  stories!  What  cynicism!  He 
knows  life  to  admiration  and,  between  ourselves,  is  prob- 
ably the  most  corrupt  rogue  in  Christendom." 

"And  he  also,"  asked  the  Colonel,  "is  a  permanency — 
like  yourself,  if  I  may  say  so  without  offence?" 

"Indeed,  he  is  a  permanency  in  a  very  different  sense 
from  me,"  replied  Mr.  Malthus.  "I  have  been  graciously 
spared,  but  I  must  go  at  last.  Now  he  never  plays.  He 
shuffles  and  deals  for  the  club,  and  makes  the  necessary 
arrangements.  That  man,  my  dear  Mr.  Hammersmith,  is 
the  very  soul  of  ingenuity.  For  three  years  he  has  pur- 
sued in  London  his  useful  and,  I  think  I  may  add,  his 
artistic  calling;  and  not  so  much  as  a  whisper  of  suspicion 
has  been  once  aroused.  I  believe  him  myself  to  be  in- 
spired. You  doubtless  remember  the  celebrated  case, 
six  months  ago,  of  the  gentleman  who  was  accidentally 
poisoned  in  a  chemist's  shop?  That  was  one  of  the  least 
rich,  one  of  the  least  racy,  of  his  notions;  but  then,  how 
simple!  and  how  safe!" 

"You  astound  me, ' '  said  the  Colonel.  ' 'Was  that  unfor- 
tunate gentleman  one  of  the "  He  was  about  to  say 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  25 

"victims;"  but  bethinking  himself  in  time,  he  substi- 
tuted— "members  of  the  club?" 

In  the  same  flash  of  thought,  it  occurred  to  him  that 
Mr.  Malthus  himself  had  not  at  all  spoken  in  the  tone  of 
one  who  is  in  love  with  death;  and  he  added  hurriedly: 

"But  I  perceive  I  am  still  in  the  dark.  You  speak  of 
shuffling  and  dealing;  pray  for  what  end?  And  since  you 
seem  rather  unwilling  to  die  than  otherwise,  I  must  own 
that  I  cannot  conceive  what  brings  you  here  at  all." 

"You  say  truly  that  you  are  in  the  dark,"  replied  Mr. 
Malthus  with  more  animation.  "Why,  my  dear  sir,  this 
club  is  the  temple  of  intoxication.  If  my  enfeebled  health 
could  support  the  excitement  more  often,  you  may  depend 
upon  it  I  should  be  more  often  here.  It  requires  all  the 
sense  of  duty  engendered  by  a  long  habit  of  ill-health  and 
careful  regimen,  to  keep  me  from  excess  in  this,  which 
is,  I  may  say,  my  last  dissipation.  I  have  tried  them 
all,  sir,"  he  went  on,  laying  his  hand  on  Geraldine's  arm, 
"all  without  exception,  and  I  declare  to  you,  upon  my 
honor,  there  is  not  one  of  them  that  has  not  been  grossly 
and  untruthfully  overrated.  People  trifle  with  love.  Now, 
I  deny  that  love  is  a  strong  passion.  Fear  is  the  strong 
passion;  it  is  with  fear  that  you  must  trifle,  if  you  wish 
to  taste  the  intense  joys  of  living.  Envy  me — envy  me, 
sir,"  he  added  with  a  chuckle,  "I  am  a  coward!" 

Geraldine  could  scarcely  repress  a  movement  of  repul- 
sion for  this  deplorable  wretch;  but  he  commanded  him- 
self with  an  effort,  and  continued  his  inquiries. 

"How,  sir,"  he  asked,  "is  the  excitement  so  artfully 
prolonged?  and  where  is  there  any  element  of  uncer- 
tainty?" 

"I  must  tell  you  how  the  victim  for  every  evening  is 
selected,"  returned  Mr.  Malthus;  "and  not  only  the  vic- 
tim, but  another  member,  who  is  to  be  the  instrument  in 


26  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

the  club's  hands,  and  death's  high  priest  for  that  occa- 
sion." 

"Good  God!"  said  the  Colonel,  "do  they  then  kill  each 
other?" 

"The  trouble  of  suicide  is  removed  in  that  way," 
returned  Malthus  with  a  nod. 

"Merciful  Heavens!"  ejaculated  the  Colonel,"  and  may 
you — may  I — may  the — my  friend,  I  mean — may  any  of 
us  be  pitched  upon  this  evening  as  the  slayer  of  another 
man's  body  and  immortal  spirit?  Can  such  things  be 
possible  among  men  born  of  women?  Oh!  infamy  of 
infamies!" 

He  was  about  to  rise  in  his  horror,  when  he  caught  the 
Prince's  eye.  It  was  fixed  upon  him  from  across  the  room 
with  a  frowning  and  angry  stare.  And  in  a  moment 
Geraldine  recovered  his  composure. 

"After  all,"  he  added,  "why  not?  And  since  you  say 
the  game  is  interesting,  vogue  la  galere — I  follow  the 
club!" 

Mr.  Malthus  had  keenly  enjoyed  the  Colonel's  amaze- 
ment and  disgust.  He  had  the  vanity  of  wickedness;  and 
it  pleased  him  to  see  another  man  give  way  to  a  generous 
movement,  while  he  felt  himself,  in  his  entire  corruption, 
superior  to  such  emotions. 

'  'You  now,  after  your  first  moment  of  surprise, ' '  said 
he,  "are  in  a  position  to  appreciate  the  delights  of  our 
society.  You  can  see  how  it  combines  the  excitement  of 
a  gaming-table,  a  duel,  and  a  Roman  amphitheatre.  The 
Pagans  did  well  enough;  I  cordially  admire  the  refinement 
of  their  minds;  but  it  has  been  reserved  for  a  Christian 
country  to  attain  this  extreme,  this  quintessence,  this 
absolute  of  poignancy.  You  will  understand  how  vapid 
are  all  amusements  to  a  man  who  has  acquired  a  taste  for 
this  one.  The  game  we  play,"  he  continued,  "is  one  of 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  27 

extreme  simplicity.  A  full  pack — but  I  perceive  you  are 
about  to  see  the  thing  in  progress.  Will  you  lend  me  the 
help  of  your  arm?  I  am  unfortunately  paralyzed." 

Indeed,  just  as  Mr.  Malthus  was  beginning  his  descrip- 
tion, another  pair  of  folding-doors  was  thrown  open,  and 
the  whole  club  began  to  pass,  not  without  some  hurry, 
into  the  adjoining  room.  It  was  similar  in  every  respect 
to  the  one  from  which  it  was  entered,  but  somewhat  dif- 
ferently furnished.  The  centre  was  occupied  by  a  long 
green  table,  at  which  the  President  sat  shuffling  a  pack  of 
cards  with  great  particularity.  Even  with  the  stick  and 
the  Colonel's  arm,  Mr.  Malthus  walked  with  so  much 
difficulty  that  everyone  was  seated  before  this  pair  and 
the  Prince,  who  had  waited  for  them,  entered  the  apart- 
ment; and,  in  consequence,  the  three  took  seats  close 
together  at  the  lower  end  of  the  board. 

"It  is  a  pack  of  fifty-two,"  whispered  Mr.  Malthus. 
"Watch  for  the  ace  of  spades,  which  is  the  sign  of  death, 
and  the  ace  of  clubs,  which  designates  the  official  of  the 
night.  Happy,  happy  young  men!"  he  added.  "You 
have  good  eyes,  and  can  follow  the  game.  Alas !  I  cannot 
tell  an  ace  from  a  deuce  across  the  table." 

And  he  proceeded  to  equip  himself  with  a  second  pair 
of  spectacles. 

"I  must  at  least  watch  the  faces,"  he  explained. 

The  Colonel  rapidly  informed  his  friend  of  all  that  he 
had  learned  from  the  honorary  member,  and  of  the  hor- 
rible alternative  that  lay  before  them.  The  Prince  was 
conscious  of  a  deadly  chill  and  a  contraction  about  his 
heart;  he  swallowed  with  difficulty,  and  looked  from  side 
to  side  like  a  man  in  a  maze. 

"One  bold  stroke,"  whispered  the  Colonel,  "and  we 
may  still  escape." 

But  the  suggestion  recalled  the  Prince's  spirits. 


28  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"Silence!"  said  he.  "Let  me  see  that  you  can  play 
like  a  gentleman  for  any  stake,  however  serious." 

And  he  looked  about  him,  once  more  to  all  appearance 
at  his  ease,  although  his  heart  beat  thickly,  and  he  was 
conscious  of  an  unpleasant  heat  in  his  bosom.  The  mem- 
bers were  all  very  quiet  and  intent;  everyone  was  pale, 
but  none  so  pale  as  Mr.  Malthus.  His  eyes  protruded ;  his 
head  kept  nodding  involuntarily  upon  his  spine ;  his  hands 
found  their  way,  one  after  the  other,  to  his  mouth,  where 
they  made  clutches  at  his  tremulous  and  ashen  lips.  It 
was  plain  that  the  honorary  member  enjoyed  his  member- 
ship on  very  startling  terms. 

"Attention,  gentlemen!"  said  the  President. 

And  he  began  slowly  dealing  the  cards  about  the  table 
in  the  reverse  direction,  pausing  until  each  man  had 
shown  his  card.  Nearly  everyone  hesitated;  and  some- 
times you  would  see  a  player's  fingers  stumble  more  than 
once  before  he  could  turn  over  the  momentous  slip  of 
pasteboard.  As  the  Prince's  turn  drew  nearer,  he  was 
conscious  of  a  growing  and  almost  suffocating  excitement; 
but  he  had  somewhat  of  the  gambler's  nature,  and  recog- 
nized almost  with  astonishment  that  there  was  a  degree  of 
pleasure  in  his  sensations.  The  nine  of  clubs  fell  to  his 
lot;  the  three  of  spades  was  dealt  to  Geraldine;  and  the 
queen  of  hearts  to  Mr.  Malthus,  who  was  unable  to  sup- 
press a  sob  of  relief.  The  young  man  of  the  cream  tarts 
almost  immediately  afterwards  turned  over  the  ace  of 
clubs,  and  remained  frozen  with  horror,  the  card  still 
resting  on  his  finger;  he  had  not  come  there  to  kill,  but 
to  be  killed ;  and  the  Prince,  in  his  generous  sympathy 
with  his  position,  almost  forgot  the  peril  that  still  hung 
over  himself  and  his  friend. 

The  deal  was  coming  round  again,  and  still  Death's 
card  had  not  come  out.  The  players  held  their  respira- 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  29 

tion,  and  only  breathed  by  gasps.  The  Prince  received 
another  club;  Geraldine  had  a  diamond;  but  when  Mr. 
Malthus  turned  up  his  card  a  horrible  noise,  like  that  of 
something  breaking,  issued  from  his  mouth;  and  he  rose 
from  his  seat  and  sat  down  again,  with  no  sign  of  his 
paralysis.  It  was  the  ace  of  spades.  The  honorary 
member  had  trifled  once  too  often  with  his  terrors. 

Conversation  broke  out  again  almost  at  once.  The 
players  relaxed  their  rigid  attitudes,  and  began  to  rise 
from  the  table  and  stroll  back  by  twos  and  threes  into  the 
smoking-room.  The  President  stretched  his  arms  and 
yawned,  like  a  man  who  had  finished  his  day's  work. 
But  Mr.  Malthus  sat  in  his  place,  with  his  head  in  his 
hands,  and  his  hands  upon  the  table,  drunk  and  motionless 
— a  thing  stricken  down. 

The  Prince  and  Geraldine  made  their  escape  at  once. 
In  the  cold  night  air  their  horror  of  what  they  had  wit- 
nessed was  redoubled. 

"Alas!"  cried  the  Prince,  "to  be  bound  by  an  oath  in 
such  a  matter !  to  allow  this  wholesale  trade  in  murder  to 
be  continued  with  profit  and  impunity!  If  I  but  dared  to 
forfeit  my  pledge!" 

"That  is  impossible  for  your  Highness,"  replied  the 
Colonel,  whose  honor  is  the  honor  of  Bohemia.  "But  I 
dare,  and  may  with  propriety,  forfeit  mine." 

"Geraldine,"  said  the  Prince,  "if  your  honor  suffers  in 
any  of  the  adventures  into  which  you  follow  me,  not  only 
will  I  never  pardon  you,  but — what  I  believe  will  much 
more  sensibly  affect  you — I  should  never  forgive  myself." 

"I  receive  your  Highness's  commands,"  replied  the 
Colonel.  "Shall  we  go  from  this  accursed  spot?" 

'  'Yes, ' '  said  the  Prince.  "Call  a  cab  in  Heaven's  name, 
and  let  me  try  to  forget  in  slumber  the  memory  of  this 
night's  disgrace." 


30  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

But  it  was  notable  that  he  carefully  read  the  name  of 
the  court  before  he  left  it. 

The  next  morning,  as  soon  as  the  Prince  was  stirring, 
Colonel  Geraldine  brought  him  a  daily  newspaper,  with 
the  following  paragraph  marked : 

"MELANCHOLY  ACCIDENT. — This  morning,  about  two 
o'clock,  Mr.  Bartholomew  Malthus,  of  16  Chepstow  Place, 
Westbourne  Grove,  on  his  way  home  from  a  party  at  a 
friend's  house,  fell  over  the  upper  parapet  in  Trafalgar 
Square,  fracturing  his  skull  and  breaking  a  leg  and  an 
arm.  Death  was  instantaneous.  Mr.  Malthus,  accom- 
panied by  a  friend,  was  engaged  in  looking  for  a  cab  at 
the  time  of  the  unfortunate  occurrence.  As  Mr.  Malthus 
was  paralytic,  it  is  thought  that  his  fall  may  have  been 
occasioned  by  another  seizure.  The  unhappy  gentleman 
was  well  known  in  the  most  respectable  circles,  and  his 
loss  will  be  widely  and  deeply  deplored." 

"If  ever  a  soul  went  straight  to  Hell,"  said  Geraldine 
solemnly,  "it  was  that  paralytic  man's." 

The  Prince  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  remained 
silent. 

"I  am  almost  rejoiced,"  continued  the  Colonel,  "to 
know  that  he  is  dead.  But  for  our  young  man  of  the 
cream  tarts  I  confess  my  heart  bleeds." 

"Geraldine,"  said  the  Prince,  raising  his  face,  "that 
unhappy  lad  was  last  night  as  innocent  as  you  and  I;  and 
this  morning  the  guilt  of  blood  is  on  his  soul.  When  I 
think  of  the  President,  my  heart  grows  sick  within  me. 
I  do  not  know  how  it  shall  be  done,  but  I  shall  have  that 
scoundrel  at  my  mercy  as  there  is  a  God  in  heaven.  What 
an  experience,  what  a  lesson,  was  that  game  of  cards ! ' ' 

"One,"  said  the  Colonel,  "never  to  be  repeated." 

The  Prince  remained  so  long  without  replying,  that 
Geraldine  grew  alarmed. 

"You  cannot  mean  to  return,"  he  said.     "You  have 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  31 

suffered  too  much  and  seen  too  much  horror  already.  The 
duties  of  your  high  position  forbid  the  repetition  of  the 
hazard." 

"There  is  much  in  what  you  say,"  replied  Prince  Flori- 
zel,  "and  I  am  not  altogether  pleased  with  my  own  deter- 
mination. Alas!  in  the  clothes  of  the  greatest  potentate, 
what  is  there  but  a  man?  I  never  felt  my  weakness  more 
acutely  than  now,  Geraldine,  but  it  is  stronger  than  I. 
Can  I  cease  to  interest  myself  in  the  fortunes  of  the  un- 
happy young  man  who  supped  with  us  some  hours  ago? 
Can  I  leave  the  President  to  follow  his  nefarious  career 
unwatched?  Can  I  begin  an  adventure  so  entrancing,  and 
not  follow  it  to  an  end?  No,  Geraldine;  you  ask  of  the 
Prince  more  than  the  man  is  able  to  perform.  To-night, 
once  more,  we  take  our  places  at  the  table  of  the  Suicide 
Club." 

Colonel  Geraldine  fell  upon  his  knees. 

"Will  your  Highness  take  my  life?"  he  cried.  "It  is 
his — his  freely;  but  do  not,  0  do  not!  let  him  ask  me  to 
countenance  so  terrible  a  risk." 

"Colonel  Geraldine,"  replied  the  Prince,  with  some 
haughtiness  of  manner,  "your  life  is  absolutely  your  own. 
I  only  looked  for  obedience;  and  when  that  is  unwillingly 
rendered,  I  shall  look  for  that  no  longer.  I  add  one  word: 
your  importunity  in  this  affair  has  been  sufficient." 

The  Master  of  the  Horse  regained  his  feet  at  once. 
"Your  Highness,"  he  said,  "may  I  be  excused  in  my 
attendance  this  afternoon?  I  dare  not,  as  an  honorable 
man,  venture  a  second  time  into  that  fatal  house  until  I 
have  perfectly  ordered  my  affairs.  Your  Highness  shall 
meet,  I  promise  him,  with  no  more  opposition  from  the 
most  devoted  and  grateful  of  his  servants." 

"My  dear  Geraldine,"  returned  Prince  Florizel,  "I 
always  regret  when  you  oblige  me  to  remember  my  rank. 


32  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

Dispose  of  your  day  as  you  think  fit,  but  be  here  before 
eleven  in  the  same  disguise." 

The  club,  on  this  second  evening,  was  not  so  fully  at- 
tended; and  when  Geraldine  and  the  Prince  arrived,  there 
were  not  above  half-a-dozen  persons  in  the  smoking-room. 
His  Highness  took  the  President  aside  and  congratulated 
him  warmly  on  the  demise  of  Mr.  Malthus. 

"I  like,"  he  said,"  to  meet  with  capacity,  and  certainly 
find  much  of  it  in  you.  Your  profession  is  of  a  very  deli- 
cate nature,  but  I  see  you  are  well  qualified  to  conduct  it 
with  success  and  secrecy." 

The  President  was  somewhat  affected  by  these  compli- 
ments from  one  of  his  Highness's  superior  bearing.  He 
acknowledged  them  almost  with  humility. 

"Poor  Malthy!"  he  added,  "I  shall  hardly  know  the 
club  without  him.  The  most  of  my  patrons  are  boys,  sir, 
and  poetical  boys,  who  are  not  much  company  for  me. 
Not  but  what  Malthy  had  some  poetry,  too;  but  it  was  of 
a  kind  that  I  could  understand." 

"I  can  readily  imagine  you  should  find  yourself  in 
sympathy  with  Mr.  Malthus,"  returned  the  Prince.  "He 
struck  me  as  a  man  of  a  very  original  disposition." 

The  young  man  of  the  cream  tarts  was  in  the  room,  but 
painfully  depressed  and  silent.  His  late  companions 
sought  in  vain  to  lead  him  into  conversation. 

"How  bitterly  I  wish,"  he  cried,  "that  I  had  never 
brought  you  to  this  infamous  abode !  Begone,  while  you 
are  clean-handed.  If  you  could  have  heard  the  old  man 
scream  as  he  fell,  and  the  noise  of  his  bones  upon  the 
pavement!  Wish  me,  if  you  have  any  kindness  to  so 
fallen  a  being — wish  the  ace  of  spades  for  me  to-night!" 

A  few  more  members  dropped  in  as  the  evening  went 
on,  but  the  club  did  not  muster  more  than  the  devil's 
dozen  when  they  took  their  places  at  the  table.  The 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  33 

Prince  was  again  conscious  of  a  certain  joy  in  his  alarms; 
but  he  was  astonished  to  see  Geraldine  so  much  more  self- 
possessed  than  on  the  night  before. 

"It  is  extraordinary,"  thought  the  Prince,  "that  a 
will,  made  or  unmade,  should  so  greatly  influence  a 
young  man's  spirit." 

"Attention,  gentlemen!"  said  the  President,  and  he 
began  to  deal. 

Three  times  the  cards  went  all  round  the  table,  and 
neither  of  the  marked  cards  had  yet  fallen  from  his  hand. 
The  excitement  as  he  began  the  fourth  distribution  was 
overwhelming.  There  were  just  cards  enough  to  go  once 
more  entirely  round.  The  Prince,  who  sat  second  from 
the  dealer's  left,  would  receive,  in  the  reverse  mode  of 
dealing  practiced  at  the  club,  the  second  last  card.  The 
third  player  turned  up  a  black  ace — it  was  the  ace  of 
clubs.  The  next  received  a  diamond,  the  next  a  heart, 
and  so  on;  but  the  ace  of  spades  was  still  undelivered. 
At  last  Geraldine,  who  sat  upon  the  Prince's  left,  turned 
his  card;  it  was  an  ace,  but  the  ace  of  hearts. 

When  Prince  Florizel  saw  his  fate  upon  the  table  in 
front  of  him,  his  heart  stood  still.  He  was  a  brave  man, 
but  the  sweat  poured  off  his  face.  There  were  exactly 
fifty  chances  out  of  a  hundred  that  he  was  doomed.  He 
reversed  the  card;  it  was  the  ace  of  spades.  A  loud 
roaring  filled  his  brain,  and  the  table  swam  before  his 
eyes.  He  heard  the  player  on  his  right  break  into  a  fit  of 
laughter  that  sounded  between  mirth  and  disappointment; 
he  saw  the  company  rapidly  dispersing,  but  his  mind  was 
full  of  other  thoughts.  He  recognized  how  foolish,  how 
criminal,  had  been  his  conduct.  In  perfect  health,  in  the 
prime  of  his  years,  the  heir  to  a  throne,  he  had  gambled 
away  his  future  and  that  of  a  brave  and  loyal  country. 
"God,"  he  cried,  "God  forgive  me!"  And  with  that, 


34    .  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

the  confusion  of  his  senses  passed  away,  and  he  regained 
his  self-possession  in  a  moment. 

To  his  surprise  Geraldine  had  disappeared.  There  was  no 
one  in  the  card-room  but  his  destined  butcher  consulting 
with  the  President,  and  the  young  man  of  the  cream  tarts, 
who  slipped  up  to  the  Prince  and  whispered  in  his  ear: 

"I  would  give  a  million,  if  I  had  it,  for  your  luck." 

His  Highness  could  not  help  reflecting,  as  the  young 
man  departed,  that  he  would  have  sold  his  opportunity 
for  a  much  more  moderate  sum. 

The  whispered  conference  now  came  to  an  end.  The 
holder  of  the  ace  of  clubs  left  the  room  with  a  look  of 
intelligence,  and  the  President,  approaching  the  unfor- 
tunate Prince,  proffered  him  his  hand. 

"I  am  pleased  to  have  met  you,  sir,"  said  he,  "and 
pleased  to  have  been  in  a  position  to  do  you  this  trifling 
service.  At  least,  you  cannot  complain  of  delay.  On  the 
second  evening — what  a  stroke  of  luck!" 

The  Prince  endeavored  in  vain  to  articulate  something 
in  response,  but  his  mouth  was  dry  and  his  tongue  seemed 
paralyzed. 

"You  feel  a  little  sickish?"  asked  the  President,  with 
some  show  of  solicitude.  "Most  gentlemen  do.  Will  you 
take  a  little  brandy?" 

The  Prince  signified  in  the  affirmative,  and  the  other 
immediately  filled  some  of  the  spirit  into  a  tumbler. 

"Poor  old  Malthy!"  ejaculated  the  President,  as  the 
Prince  drained  the  glass.  "He  drank  near  upon  a  pint, 
and  little  enough  good  it  seemed  to  do  him!" 

"I  am  more  amenable  to  treatment,"  said  the  Prince, 
a  good  deal  revived.  "I  am  my  own  man  again  at  once, 
as  you  perceive.  And  so,  let  me  ask  you,  what  are  my 
directions?" 

"You  will  proceed  along  the  Strand  in  the  direction  of 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  35 

the  City,  and  on  the  left-hand  pavement,  until  you  meet 
the  gentleman  who  has  just  left  the  room.  He  will  con- 
tinue your  instructions,  and  him  you  will  have  the  kind- 
ness to  obey;  the  authority  of  the  club  is  vested  in  his 
person  for  the  night.  And  now, ' '  added  the  President, 
"I  wish  you  a  pleasant  walk." 

Florizel  acknowledged  the  salutation  rather  awkwardly, 
and  took  his  leave.  He  passed  through  the  smoking-room, 
where  the  bulk  of  the  players  were  still  consuming  cham- 
pagne, some  of  which  he  had  himself  ordered  and  paid 
for;  and  he  was  surprised  to  find  himself  cursing  them 
in  his  heart.  He  put  on  his  hat  and  great  coat  in  the 
cabinet,  and  selected  his  umbrella  from  a  corner.  The 
familiarity  of  these  acts,  and  the  thought  that  he  was 
about  them  for  the  last  time,  betrayed  him  into  a  fit  of 
laughter  which  sounded  unpleasantly  in  his  own  ears.  He 
conceived  a  reluctance  to  leave  the  cabinet,  and  turned 
instead  to  the  window.  The  sight  of  the  lamps  and  the 
darkness  recalled  him  to  himself. 

"Come,  come,  I  must  be  a  man,"  he  thought,  "and 
tear  myself  away. ' ' 

At  the  corner  of  Box  Court  three  men  fell  upon  Prince 
Florizel  and  he  was  unceremoniously  thrust  into  a  car- 
riage, which  at  once  drove  rapidly  away.  There  was 
already  an  occupant. 

"Will  your  Highness  pardon  my  zeal?"  said  a  well- 
known  voice. 

The  Prince  threw  himself  upon  the  Colonel's  neck  in  a 
passion  of  relief. 

"How  can  I  ever  thank  you?"  he  cried.  "And  how 
was  this  effected?" 

Although  he  had  been  willing  to  march  upon  his  doom, 
he  was  overjoyed  to  yield  to  friendly  violence,  and  return 
once  more  to  life  and  hope. 


36  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"You  can  thank  me  effectually  enough,"  replied  the 
Colonel,  "by  avoiding  all  such  dangers  in  the  future. 
And  as  for  your  second  question,  all  has  been  managed 
by  the  simplest  means.  I  arranged  this  afternoon  with  a 
celebrated  detective.  Secrecy  has  been  promised  and  paid 
for.  Your  own  servants  have  been  principally  engaged 
in  the  affair.  The  house  in  Box  Court  has  been  surrounded 
since  nightfall,  and  this,  which  is  one  of  your  own  car- 
riages, has  been  awaiting  you  for  nearly  an  hour. ' ' 

"And  the  miserable  creature  who  was  to  have  slain  me 
— what  of  him?"  inquired  the  Prince. 

"He  was  pinioned  as  he  left  the  club,"  replied  the 
Colonel,  "and  now  awaits  your  sentence  at  the  Palace, 
where  he  will  soon  be  joined  by  his  accomplices." 

"Geraldine,"  said  the  Prince,  "you  have  saved  me 
against  my  explicit  orders,  and  you  have  done  well.  I 
owe  you  not  only  my  life,  but  a  lesson;  and  I  should  be 
unworthy  of  my  rank  if  I  did  not  show  myself  grateful  to 
my  teacher.  Let  it  be  yours  to  choose  the  manner. ' ' 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  the  carriage  continued 
to  speed  through  the  streets,  and  the  two  men  were  each 
buried  in  his  own  reflections.  The  silence  was  broken  by 
Colonel  Geraldine. 

"Your  Highness,"  said  he,  "has  by  this  time  a  con- 
siderable body  of  prisoners.  There  is  at  least  one  crim- 
inal among  the  number  to  whom  justice  should  be  dealt. 
Our  oath  forbids  us  all  recourse  to  law;  and  discretion 
would  forbid  it  equally  if  the  oath  were  loosened.  May  I 
inquire  your  Highness's  intention?" 

"It  is  decided,"  answered  Florizel;  "the  President  must 
fall  in  duel.  It  only  remains  to  choose  his  adversary." 

"Your  Highness  has  permitted  me  to  name  my  own 
recompense,"  said  the  Colonel.  "Will  he  permit  me  to 
ask  the  appointment  of  my  brother?  It  is  an  honorable 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  37 

post,  but  I  dare  assure  your  Highness  that  the  lad  will 
acquit  himself  with  credit." 

"You  ask  me  an  ungracious  favor,"  said  the  Prince, 
"but  I  must  refuse  you  nothing." 

The  Colonel  kissed  his  hand  with  the  greatest  affection; 
and  at  that  moment  the  carriage  rolled  under  the  archway 
of  the  Prince's  splendid  residence. 

An  hour  after,  Florizel  in  his  official  robes,  and  covered 
with  all  the  orders  of  Bohemia,  received  the  members  of 
the  Suicide  Club. 

"Foolish  and  wicked  men,"  said  he,  "as  many  of  you 
as  have  been  driven  into  this  strait  by  the  lack  of  fortune 
shall  receive  employment  and  remuneration  from  my 
officers.  Those  who  suffer  under  a  sense  of  guilt  must 
have  recourse  to  a  higher  and  more  generous  Potentate 
than  I.  I  feel  pity  for  all  of  you,  deeper  than  you  can 
imagine;  to-morrow  you  shall  tell  me  your  stories;  and 
as  you  answer  more  frankly,  I  shall  be  the  more  able  to 
remedy  your  misfortunes.  As  for  you,"  he  added,  turn- 
ing to  the  President,  "I  should  only  offend  a  person  of 
your  parts  by  any  offer  of  assistance;  but  I  have  instead 
a  piece  of  diversion  to  propose  to  you.  Here,"  laying 
his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  Colonel  Geraldine's  young 
brother,  "is  an  officer  of  mine  who  desires  to  make  a 
little  tour  upon  the  Continent;  and  I  ask  you,  as  a  favor, 
to  accompany  him  on  this  excursion.  Do  you,"  he  went 
on,  changing  his  tone,  "do  you  shoot  well  with  the  pistol? 
Because  you  may  have  need  of  that  accomplishment. 
When  two  men  go  traveling  together,  it  is  best  to  be  pre- 
pared for  all.  Let  me  add  that,  if  by  any  chance  you 
should  lose  young  Mr.  Geraldine  upon  the  way,  I  shall 
always  have  another  member  of  my  household  to  place  at 
your  disposal;  and  I  am  known,  Mr.  President,  to  have 
long  eyesight,  and  as  long  an  arm. ' ' 


38  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

With  these  words,  said  with  much  sternness,  the  Prince 
concluded  his  address.  Next  morning  the  members  of 
the  club  were  suitably  provided  for  by  his  munificence, 
and  the  President  set  forth  upon  his  travels,  under  the 
supervision  of  Mr.  Geraldine,  and  a  pair  of  faithful  and 
adroit  lackeys,  well  trained  in  the  Prince's  household. 
Not  content  with  this,  discreet  agents  were  put  in  posses- 
sion of  the  house  of  Box  Court,  and  all  letters  of  visitors 
for  the  Suicide  Club  or  its  officials  were  to  be  examined 
by  Prince  Florizel  in  person. 

Here  (says  my  Arabian  author)  ends  THE  STORY  OP 
THE  YOUNG  MAN  WITH  THE  CREAM  TARTS,  who  is  now  a 
comfortable  householder  in  Wigmore  Street,  Cavendish 
Square.  The  number,  for  obvious  reasons,  I  suppress. 
Those  who  care  to  pursue  the  adventures  of  Prince  Flori- 
zel and  the  President  of  the  Suicide  Club,  may  read  the 
HISTORY  OP  THE  PHYSICIAN  AND  THE  SARATOGA  TRUNK. 


STORY  OF  THE  PHYSICIAN  AND  THE 
SARATOGA   TRUNK 

Mr.  Silas  Q.  Scuddamore  was  a  young  American  of  a 
simple  and  harmless  disposition,  which  was  the  more  to 
his  credit  as  he  came  from  New  England — a  quarter  of 
the  New  World  not  precisely  famous  for  those  qualities. 
Although  he  was  exceedingly  rich,  he  kept  a  note  of  all 
his  expenses  in  a  little  paper  pocket-book;  and  he  had 
chosen  to  study  the  attractions  of  Paris  from  the  seventh 
story  of  what  is  called  a  furnished  hotel,  in  the  Latin 
Quarter.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  habit  in  his  penuri- 
ousness;  and  his  virtue,  which  was  very  remarkable  among 
his  associates,  was  principally  founded  upon  diffidence 
and  youth. 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  39 

The  next  room  to  his  was  inhabited  by  a  lady,  very 
attractive  in  her  air  and  very  elegant  in  toilette,  whom, 
on  his  first  arrival,  he  had  taken  for  a  Countess.  In 
course  of  time  he  had  learned  that  she  was  known  by  the 
name  of  Madame  Zephyrine,  and  that  whatever  station 
she  occupied  in  life  it  was  not  that  of  a  person  of  title. 
Madame  Zephyrine,  probably  in  the  hope  of  enchanting 
the  young  American,  used  to  flaunt  by  him  on  the  stairs 
with  a  civil  inclination,  a  word  of  course,  and  a  knock- 
down look  out  of  her  black  eyes,  and  disappear  in  a  rustle 
of  silk,  and  with  the  revelation  of  an  admirable  foot  and 
ankle.  But  these  advances,  so  far  from  encouraging  Mr. 
Scuddamore,  plunged  him  into  the  depths  of  depression 
and  bashfulness.  She  had  come  to  him  several  times  for 
a  light,  or  to  apologize  for  the  imaginary  depredations  of 
her  poodle;  but  his  mouth  was  closed  in  the  presence  of 
so  superior  a  being,  his  French  promptly  left  him,  and  he 
could  only  stare  and  stammer  until  she  was  gone.  The 
slenderness  of  their  intercourse  did  not  prevent  him  from 
throwing  out  insinuations  of  a  very  glorious  order  when 
he  was  safely  alone  with  a  few  males. 

The  room  on  the  other  side  of  the  American's — for  there 
were  three  rooms  on  a  floor  in  the  hotel — was  tenanted  by 
an  old  English  physician  of  rather  doubtful  reputation. 
Dr.  Noel,  for  that  was  his  name,  had  been  forced  to  leave 
London,  where  he  enjoyed  a  large  and  increasing  prac- 
tice; and  it  was  hinted  that  the  police  had  been  the 
instigators  of  this  change  of  scene.  At  least  he,  who 
had  made  something  of  a  figure  in  earlier  life,  now  dwelt 
in  the  Latin  Quarter  in  great  simplicity  and  solitude,  and 
devoted  much  of  his  time  to  study.  Mr.  Scuddamore  had 
made  his  acquaintance,  and  the  pair  would  now  and  then 
dine  together  frugally  in  a  restaurant  across  the  street. 

Silas  Q.  Scuddamore  had  many  little  vices  of  the  more 


40  NEW  AKABIAN  NIGHTS 

respectable  order,  and  was  not  restrained  by  delicacy  from 
indulging  them  in  many  rather  doubtful  ways.  Chief 
among  his  foibles  stood  curiosity.  He  was  a  born  gossip; 
and  life,  and  especially  those  parts  of  it  in  which  he  had 
no  experience,  interested  him  to  the  degree  of  passion. 
He  was  a  pert,  invincible  questioner,  pushing  his  inquiries 
with  equal  pertinacity  and  indiscretion;  he  had  been 
observed,  when  he  took  a  letter  to  the  post,  to  weigh  it 
in  his  hand,  to  turn  it  over  and  over,  and  to  study  the 
address  with  care;  and  when  he  found  a  flaw  in  the 
partition  between  his  room  and  Madame  Zephyrine's, 
instead  of  filling  it  up,  he  enlarged  and  improved  the 
opening,  and  made  use  of  it  as  a  spy-hole  on  his  neighbor's 
affairs. 

One  day,  in  the  end  of  March,  his  curiosity  growing  as 
it  was  indulged,  he  enlarged  the  hole  a  little  further,  so 
that  he  might  command  another  corner  of  the  room.  That 
evening,  when  he  went  as  usual  to  inspect  Madame  Zephy- 
rine's movements,  he  was  astonished  to  find  the  aperture 
obscured  in  an  odd  manner  on  the  other  side,  and  still 
more  abashed  when  the  obstacle  was  suddenly  withdrawn 
and  a  titter  of  laughter  reached  his  ears.  Some  of  the 
plaster  had  evidently  betrayed  the  secret  of  his  spy-hole, 
and  his  neighbor  had  been  returning  the  compliment  in 
kind.  Mr.  Scuddamore  was  moved  to  a  very  acute  feeling 
of  annoyance;  he  condemned  Madame  Zephyrine  unmerci- 
fully; he  even  blamed  himself;  but  when  he  found,  next 
day,  that  she  had  taken  no  means  to  balk  him  of  his 
favorite  pastime,  he  continued  to  profit  by  her  careless- 
ness, and  gratify  his  idle  curiosity. 

That  next  day  Madame  Zephyrine  received  a  long  visit 
from  a  tall,  loosely  built  man  of  fifty  or  upwards,  whom 
Silas  had  not  hitherto  seen.  His  tweed  suit  and  colored 
shirt,  no  less  than  his  shaggy  side-whiskers,  identified 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  41 

him  as  a  Britisher,  and  his  dull  gray  eye  affected  Silas 
with  a  sense  of  cold.  He  kept  screwing  his  mouth  from 
side  to  side  and  round  and  round  during  the  whole  col- 
loquy, which  was  carried  on  in  whispers.  More  than 
once  it  seemed  to  the  young  New-Englander  as  if  their 
gestures  indicated  his  own  apartment;  but  the  only  thing 
definite  he  could  gather  by  the  most  scrupulous  attention 
was  this  remark  made  by  the  Englishman  in  a  somewhat 
higher  key,  as  if  in  answer  to  some  reluctance  or  opposi- 
tion: 

"I  have  studied  his  taste  to  a  nicety,  and  I  tell  you 
again  and  again  you  are  the  only  woman  of  the  sort  that  I 
can  lay  my  hands  on." 

In  answer  to  this,  Madame  Zephyrine  sighed,  and  ap- 
peared by  a  gesture  to  resign  herself,  like  one  yielding  to 
unqualified  authority. 

That  afternoon  the  observatory  was  finally  blinded,  a 
wardrobe  having  been  drawn  in  front  of  it  upon  the  other 
side,  and  while  Silas  was  still  lamenting  over  this  misfor- 
tune, which  he  attributed  to  the  Britisher's  malign  sug- 
gestion, the  concierge  brought  him  up  a  letter  in  a  female 
handwriting.  It  was  conceived  in  French  of  no  very  rigor- 
ous orthography,  bore  no  signature,  and  in  the  most  en- 
couraging terms  invited  the  young  American  to  be  present 
in  a  certain  part  of  the  Bullier  Ball  at  eleven  o'clock  that 
night.  Curiosity  and  timidity  fought  a  long  battle  in  his 
heart;  sometimes  he  was  all  virtue,  sometimes  all  fire  and 
daring;  and  the  result  of  it  was  that,  long  before  ten, 
Mr.  Silas  Q.  Scuddamore  presented  himself  in  unimpeach- 
able attire  at  the  door  of  the  Bullier  Ball  Rooms,  and  paid 
his  entry  money  with  a  sense  of  reckless  deviltry  that  was 
not  without  its  charm. 

It  was  Carnival  time,  and  the  Ball  was  very  full  and 
noisy.  The  lights  and  the  crowd  at  first  rather  abashed 


42  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

our  young  adventurer,  and  then,  mounting  to  his  brain 
with  a  sort  of  intoxication,  put  him  in  possession  of  more 
than  his  own  share  of  manhood.  He  felt  ready  to  face 
the  devil,  and  strutted  in  the  ballroom  with  the  swagger 
of  a  cavalier.  While  he  was  thus  parading,  he  became 
aware  of  Madame  Zephyrine  and  her  Britisher  in  confer- 
ence behind  a  pillar.  The  cat-like  spirit  of  eavesdropping 
overcame  him  at  once.  He  stole  nearer  and  nearer  on  the 
couple  from  behind,  until  he  was  within  earshot. 

"That  is  the  man,"  the  Britisher  was  saying;  "there 
—  with  the  long  blond  hair  —  speaking  to  a  girl  in 
green." 

Silas  identified  a  very  handsome  young  fellow  of  small 
stature,  who  was  plainly  the  object  of  this  designation. 

"It  is  well,"  said  Madame  Zephyrine.  "I  shall  do  my 
utmost.  But,  remember,  the  best  of  us  may  fail  in  such 
a  matter. ' ' 

"Tut!"  returned  her  companion;  "I  answer  for  the 
result.  Have  I  not  chosen  you  from  thirty?  Go;  but  be 
wary  of  the  Prince.  I  cannot  think  what  cursed  accident 
has  brought  him  here  to-night.  As  if  there  were  not  a 
dozen  balls  in  Paris  better  worth  his  notice  than  this  riot 
of  students  and  counter-jumpers!  See  him  where  he  sits, 
more  like  a  reigning  Emperor  at  home  than  a  Prince  upon 
his  holidays!" 

Silas  was  again  lucky.  He  observed  a  person  of  rather 
a  full  build,  strikingly  handsome,  and  of  a  very  stately 
and  courteous  demeanor,  seated  at  table  with  another 
handsome  young  man,  several  years  his  junior,  who  ad- 
dressed him  with  conspicuous  deference.  The  name  of 
Prince  struck  gratefully  on  Silas's  Republican  hearing, 
and  the  aspect  of  the  person  to  whom  that  name  was 
applied  exercised  its  usual  charm  upon  his  mind.  He  left 
Madame  Zephyrine  and  her  Englishman  to  take  care  of 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  43 

each  other,  and  threading  his  way  through  the  assembly, 
approached  the  table  which  the  Prince  and  his  confidant 
had  honored  with  their  choice. 

"I  tell  you,  Geraldine,"  the  former  was  saying,  "the 
action  is  madness.  Yourself  (I  am  glad  to  remember  it) 
chose  your  brother  for  this  perilous  service,  and  you  are 
bound  in  duty  to  have  a  guard  upon  his  conduct.  He  has 
consented  to  delay  so  many  days  in  Paris;  that  was  already 
an  imprudence,  considering  the  character  of  the  man  he 
has  to  deal  with;  but  now,  when  he  is  within  eight  and 
forty  hours  of  his  departure,  when  he  is  within  two  or 
three  days  of  the  decisive  trial,  I  ask  you,  is  this  a  place 
for  him  to  spend  his  time?  He  should  be  in  a  gallery  at 
practice;  he  should  be  sleeping  long  hours  and  taking 
moderate  exercise  on  foot;  he  should  be  on  a  rigorous 
diet,  without  white  wines  or  brandy.  Does  the  dog 
imagine  we  are  all  playing  comedy?  The  thing  is  deadly 
earnest,  Geraldine." 

"I  know  the  lad  too  well  to  interfere,"  replied  Colonel 
Geraldine,  "and  well  enough  nrt  to  be  alarmed.  He  is 
more  cautious  than  you  fancy,  and  of  an  indomitable 
spirit.  If  it  had  been  a  woman  I  should  not  say  so  much, 
but  I  trust  the  President  to  him  and  the  two  valets  with- 
out an  instant's  apprehension." 

"I  am  gratified  to  hear  you  say  so,"  replied  the  Prince; 
"but  my  mind  is  not  at  rest.  These  servants  are  well- 
trained  spies,  and  already  has  not  this  miscreant  succeeded 
three  times  in  eluding  their  observation  and  spending 
several  hours  on  end  in  private,  and  most  likely  danger- 
ous, affairs?  An  amateur  might  have  lost  him  by  acci- 
dent, but  if  Rudolph  and  Jerome  were  thrown  off  the 
scent,  it  must  have  fceen  done  on  purpose,  and  by  a  man 
who  had  a  cogent  reason  and  exceptional  resources. ' ' 

"I  believe  the  question  is  now  one  between  my  brother 


44  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

and  myself,"  replied  Geraldine,  with  a  shade  of  offense 
in  his  tone. 

"I  permit  it  to  be  so,  Colonel  Geraldine,"  returned 
Prince  Florizel.  "Perhaps,  for  that  very  reason,  you 
should  be  all  the  more  ready  to  accept  my  counsels.  But 
enough.  That  girl  in  yellow  dances  well." 

And  the  talk  veered  into  the  ordinary  topics  of  a  Paris 
ballroom  in  the  Carnival. 

Silas  remembered  where  he  was,  and  that  the  hour  was 
already  near  at  hand  when  he  ought  to  be  upon  the  scene 
of  his  assignation.  The  more  he  reflected  the  less  he  liked 
the  prospect,  and  as  at  that  moment  an  eddy  in  the  crowd 
began  to  draw  him  in  the  direction  of  the  door,  he  suffered 
it  to  carry  him  away  without  resistance.  The  eddy  stranded 
him  in  a  corner  under  the  gallery,  where  his  ear  was  im- 
mediately struck  with  the  voice  of  Madame  Zephyrine. 
She  was  speaking  in  French  with  the  young  man  of  the 
blond  locks  who  had  been  pointed  out  by  the  strange 
Britisher  not  half  an  hour  before. 

"I  have  a  character  at  stake,"  she  said,  "or  I  would 
put  no  other  condition  than  my  heart  recommends.  But 
you  have  only  to  say  so  much  to  the  porter,  and  he  will 
let  you  go  by  without  a  word." 

"But  why  this  talk  of  debt?"  objected  her  companion. 

"Heavens!"  said  she,  "do  you  think  I  do  not  under- 
stand my  own  hotel?" 

And  she  went  by,  clinging  affectionately  to  her  com- 
panion's arm. 

This  put  Silas  in  mind  of  his  billet. 

"Ten  minutes  hence, "  thought  he,  "and  I  may  be  walk- 
ing with  as  beautiful  a  woman  as  that,  and  even  better 
dressed — perhaps  a  real  lady,  possibly  a  woman  of  title." 

And  then  he  remembered  the  spelling,  and  was  a  little 
downcast. 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  45 

"But  it  may  have  been  written  by  her  maid,"  he 
imagined. 

The  clock  was  only  a  few  minutes  from  the  hour,  and 
this  immediate  proximity  set  his  heart  beating  at  a  curi- 
ous and  rather  disagreeable  speed.  He  reflected  with 
relief  that  he  was  in  no  way  bound  to  put  in  an  appear-: 
ance.  Virtue  and  cowardice  were  together,  and  he  made 
once  more  for  the  door,  but  this  time  of  his  own  accord, 
and  battling  against  the  stream  of  people  which  was  now 
moving  in  a  contrary  direction.  Perhaps  this  prolonged 
resistance  wearied  him,  or  perhaps  he  was  in  that  frame 
of  mind  when  merely  to  continue  in  the  same  determina- 
tion for  a  certain  number  of  minutes  produces  a  reaction 
and  a  different  purpose.  Certainly,  at  least,  he  wheeled 
about  for  a  third  time,  and  did  not  stop  until  he  had 
found  a  place  of  concealment  within  a  few  yards  of  the 
appointed  place. 

Here  he  went  through  an  agony  of  spirit,  in  which  he 
several  times  prayed  to  God  for  help,  for  Silas  had  been 
devoutly  educated.  He  had  now  not  the  least  inclination 
for  the  meeting;  nothing  kept  him  from  flight  but  a  silly 
fear  lest  he  should  be  thought  unmanly;  but  this  was  so 
powerful  that  it  kept  head  against  all  other  motives;  and 
although  it  could  not  decide  him  to  advance,  prevented 
him  from  definitely  running  away.  At  last  the  clock  in- 
dicated ten  minutes  past  the  hour.  Young  Scuddamore's 
spirit  began  to  rise;  he  peered  round  the  corner  and  saw 
no  one  at  the  place  of  meeting;  doubtless  his  unknown 
correspondent  had  wearied  and  gone  away.  He  became 
as  bold  as  he  had  formerly  been  timid.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  if  he  came  at  all  to  the  appointment,  however  late, 
he  was  clear  from  the  charge  of  cowardice.  Nay,  now 
he  began  to  suspect  a  hoax,  and  actually  complimented 
himself  on  his  shrewdness  in  having  suspected  and  out- 


46  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

manoeuvred  his  mystifiers.  So  very  idle  a  thing  is  a  boy's 
mind! 

Armed  with  these  reflections,  he  advanced  boldly  from 
his  corner;  but  he  had  not  taken  above  a  couple  of  steps 
before  a  hand  was  laid  upon  his  arm.  He  turned  and 
beheld  a  lady  cast  in  a  very  large  mould  and  with  some- 
what stately  features,  but  bearing  no  mark  of  severity  in 
her  looks. 

"I  see  that  you  are  a  very  self-confident  lady-killer," 
said  she;  "for  you  make  yourself  expected.  But  I  was 
determined  to  meet  you.  When  a  woman  has  once  so  far 
forgotten  herself  as  to  make  the  first  advance,  she  has  long 
ago  left  behind  her  all  considerations  of  petty  pride." 

Silas  was  overwhelmed  by  the  size  and  attractions  of 
his  correspondent  and  the  suddenness  with  which  she  had 
fallen  upon  him.  But  she  soon  set  him  at  his  ease.  She 
was  very  towardly  and  lenient  in  her  behavior;  she  led 
him  on  to  make  pleasantries,  and  then  applauded  him  to 
the  echo;  and  in  a  very  short  time,  between  blandishments 
and  a  liberal  exhibition  of  warm  brandy,  she  had  not  only 
induced  him  to  fancy  himself  in  love,  but  to  declare  his 
passion  with  the  greatest  vehemence. 

"Alas!"  she  said;  "I  do  not  know  whether  I  ought  not 
to  deplore  this  moment,  great  as  is  the  pleasure  you  give 
me  by  your  words.  Hitherto  I  was  alone  to  suffer;  now, 
poor  boy,  there  will  be  two.  I  am  not  my  own  mistress. 
I  dare  not  ask  you  to  visit  me  at  my  own  house,  for  I  am 
watched  by  jealous  eyes.  Let  me  see,"  she  added;  "I  am 
older  than  you,  although  so  much  weaker;  and  while  I 
trust  in  your  courage  and  determination,  I  must  employ 
my  own  knowledge  of  the  world  for  our  mutual  benefit. 
Where  do  you  live?" 

He  told  her  that  he  lodged  in  a  furnished  hotel,  and 
named  the  street  and  number. 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  47 

She  seemed  to  reflect  for  some  minutes,  with  an  effort 
of  mind. 

"I  see,"  she  said  at  last.  "You  will  be  faithful  and 
obedient,  will  you  not?" 

Silas  assured  her  eagerly  of  his  fidelity. 

"To-morrow  night,  then,"  she  continued,  with  an  en- 
couraging smile,  "you  must  remain  at  home  all  the  even- 
ing; and  if  any  friends  should  visit  you,  dismiss  them  at 
once  on  any  pretext  that  most  readily  presents  itself. 
Your  door  is  probably  shut  by  ten?"  she  asked. 

"By  eleven,"  answered  Silas. 

"At  a  quarter  past  eleven,"  pursued  the  lady,  "leave 
the  house.  Merely  cry  for  the  door  to  be  opened,  and  be 
sure  you  fall  into  no  talk  with  the  porter,  as  that  might 
ruin  everything.  Go  straight  to  the  corner  where  the 
Luxembourg  Gardens  join  the  Boulevard;  there  you  will 
find  me  waiting  you.  I  trust  you  to  follow  my  advice 
from  point  to  point;  and  remember,  if  you  fail  me  in 
only  one  particular,  you  will  bring  the  sharpest  trouble 
on  a  woman  whose  only  fault  is  to  have  seen  and  loved 
you." 

"I  cannot  see  the  use  of  all  these  instructions,"  said 
Silas. 

"I  believe  you  are  already  beginning  to  treat  me  as  a 
master,"  she  cried,  tapping  him  with  her  fan  upon  the 
arm.  "Patience,  patience!  that  should  come  in  time.  A 
woman  loves  to  be  obeyed  at  first,  although  afterwards 
she  finds  her  pleasure  in  obeying.  Do  as  I  ask  you,  for 
Heaven's  sake,  or  I  will  answer  for  nothing.  Indeed, 
now  I  think  of  it,"  she  added,  with  the  manner  of  one 
who  had  just  seen  further  into  a  difficulty,  "I  find  a  better 
plan  of  keeping  importunate  visitors  away.  Tell  the 
porter  to  admit  no  one  for  you,  except  a  person  who  may 
come  that  night  to  claim  a  debt;  and  speak  with  some 


48  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

feeling,  as  though  you  feared  the  interview,  so  that  he 
may  take  your  words  in  earnest."    . 

"I  think  you  may  trust  me  to  protect  myself  against 
intruders,"  he  said,  not  without  a  little  pique. 

"That  is  how  I  should  prefer  the  thing  arranged,"  she 
answered,  coldly.  "I  know  you  men;  you  think  nothing 
of  a  woman's  reputation." 

Silas  blushed  and  somewhat  hung  his  head;  for  the 
scheme  he  had  in  view  had  involved  a  little  vainglorying 
before  his  acquaintances. 

"Above  all,"  she  added,  "do  not  speak  to  the  porter  as 
you  come  out." 

"And  why?"  said  he.  "Of  all  your  instructions,  that 
seems  to  me  the  least  important." 

"You  at  first  doubted  the  wisdom  of  some  of  the  others, 
which  you  now  see  to  be  very  necessary, ' '  she  replied. 
"Believe  me,  this  also  has  its  uses;  in  time  you  will  see 
them;  and  what  am  I  to  think  of  your  affection,  if  you 
refuse  me  such  trifles  at  our  first  interview?" 

Silas  confounded  himself  in  explanations  and  apologies; 
in  the  middle  of  these  she  looked  up  at  the  clock  and 
clapped  her  hands  together  with  a  suppressed  scream. 

"Heavens!"  she  cried,  "is  it  so  late?  I  have  not  an 
instant  to  lose.  Alas,  we  poor  women,  what  slaves  we 
are!  What  have  I  not  risked  for  you  already?" 

And  after  repeating  her  directions,  which  she  artfully 
combined  with  caresses  and  the  most  abandoned  looks, 
she  bade  him  farewell  and  disappeared  among  the  crowd. 

The  whole  of  the  next  day  Silas  was  filled  with  a  sense 
of  great  importance;  he  was  now  sure  she  was  a  countess; 
and  when  evening  came  he  minutely  obeyed  her  orders 
and  was  at  the  corner  of  the  Luxembourg  Gardens  by  the 
hour  appointed.  No  one  was  there.  He  waited  nearly 
half  an  hour,  looking  in  the  face  of  everyone  who  passed 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  49 

or  loitered  near  the  spot;  he  even  visited  the  neighboring 
corners  of  the  Boulevard  and  made  a  complete  circuit  of 
the  garden  railings;  but  there  was  no  beautiful  countess 
to  throw  herself  into  his  arms.  At  last,  and  most  reluc- 
tantly, he  began  to  retrace  his  steps  towards  his  hotel. 
On  the  way  he  remembered  the  words  he  had  heard  pass 
between  Madame  Zephyrine  and  the  blond  young  man, 
and  they  gave  him  an  indefinite  uneasiness. 

"It  appears,"  he  reflected,  "that  everyone  has  to  tell 
lies  to  our  porter. ' ' 

He  rang  the  bell,  the  door  opened  before  him,  and  the 
porter  in  his  bedclothes  came  to  offer  him  a  light. 

"Has  he  gone?"  inquired  the  porter. 

"He?  Whom  do  you  mean?"  asked  Silas,  somewhat 
sharply,  for  he  was  irritated  by  his  disappointment. 

"I  did  not  notice  him  go  out,"  continued  the  porter, 
"but  I  trust  you  paid  him.  We  do  not  care,  in  this  house, 
to  have  lodgers  who  cannot  meet  their  liabilities." 

"What  the  devil  do  you  mean?"  demanded  Silas, 
rudely.  "I  cannot  understand  a  word  of  this  farrago." 

"The  short,  blond  young  man  who  came  for  his  debt," 
returned  the  other.  "Him  it  is  I  mean.  Who  else  should 
it  be,  when  I  had  your  orders  to  admit  no  one  else?" 

"Why,  good  God,  of  course  he  never  came,"  retorted 
Silas. 

"I  believe  what  I  believe,"  retorted  the  porter,  putting 
his  tongue  into  his  cheek  with  a  most  roguish  air. 

"You  are  an  insolent  scoundrel,"  cried  Silas,  and,  feel- 
ing that  he  had  made  a  ridiculous  exhibition  of  asperity, 
and  at  the  same  time  bewildered  by  a  dozen  alarms,  he 
turned  and  began  to  run  up  stairs. 

"Do  you  not  want  a  light  then?"  cried  the  porter. 

But  Silas  only  hurried  the  faster,  and  did  not  pause 
until  he  had  reached  the  seventh  landing  and  stood  in 


50  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

front  of  his  own  door.  There  he  waited  a  moment  to 
recover  his  breath,  assailed  by  the  worst  forebodings  and 
almost  dreading  to  enter  the  room. 

When  at  last  he  did  so  he  was  relieved  to  find  it  dark, 
and  to  all  appearance,  untenanted.  He  drew  a  long 
breath.  Here  he  was,  home  again  in  safety,  and  this 
should  be  his  last  folly  as  certainly  as  it  had  been  his 
first.  The  matches  stood  on  a  little  table  by  the  bed, 
and  he  began  to  grope  his  way  in  that  direction.  As  he 
moved,  his  apprehensions  grew  upon  him  once  more,  and 
he  was  pleased,  when  his  foot  encountered  an  obstacle,  to 
find  it  nothing  more  alarming  than  a  chair.  At  last  he 
touched  curtains.  From  the  position  of  the  window, 
which  was  faintly  visible,  he  knew  he  must  be  at  the  foot 
of  the  bed,  and  had  only  to  feel  his  way  along  it  in  order 
to  reach  the  table  in  question. 

He  lowered  his  hand,  but  what  he  touched  was  not 
simply  a  counterpane — it  was  a  counterpane  with  some- 
thing underneath  it  like  the  outline  of  a  human  leg.  Silas 
withdrew  his  arm  and  stood  a  moment  petrified. 

"What,  what,"  he  thought,  "can  this  betoken?" 

He  listened  intently,  but  there  was  no  sound  of  breath- 
ing. Once  more,  with  a  great  effort,  he  reached  out  the 
end  of  his  finger  to  the  spot  he  had  already  touched ;  but 
this  time  he  leaped  back  half  a  yard,  and  stood  shivering 
and  fixed  with  terror.  There  was  something  in  his  bed. 
What  it  was  he  knew  not,  but  there  was  something  there. 

It  was  some  seconds  before  he  could  move.  Then,  guided 
by  an  instinct,  he  fell  straight  upon  the  matches,  and 
keeping  his  back  toward  the  bed,  lighted  a  candle.  As 
soon  as  the  flame  had  kindled,  he  turned  slowly  round  and 
looked  for  what  he  feared  to  see.  Sure  enough,  there 
was  the  worst  of  his  imaginations  realized.  The  coverlid 
was  drawn  carefully  up  over  the  pillow,  but  it  moulded 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  51 

the  outline  of  a  human  body  lying  motionless;  and  when 
he  dashed  forward  and  flung  aside  the  sheets,  he  beheld 
the  blond  young  man  whom  he  had  seen  in  the  Bullier 
Ball  the  night  before,  his  eyes  open  and  without  specula- 
tion, his  face  swollen  and  blackened,  and  a  thin  stream  of 
blood  trickling  from  his  nostrils. 

Silas  uttered  a  long,  tremulous  wail,  dropped  the  candle, 
and  fell  on  his  knees  beside  the  bed. 

Silas  was  awakened  from  the  stupor  into  which  his  ter- 
rible discovery  had  plunged  him,  by  a  prolonged  but  dis- 
creet tapping  at  the  door.  It  took  him  some  seconds  to 
remember  his  position;  and  when  he  hastened  to  prevent 
anyone  from  entering  it  was  already  too  late.  Dr.  Noel, 
in  a  tall  nightcap,  carrying  a  lamp  which  lighted  up  his 
long  white  countenance,  sidling  in  his  gait,  and  peering 
and  cocking  his  head  like  some  sort  of  bird,  pushed  the 
door  slowly  open,  and  advanced  into  the  middle  of  the 
room. 

"I  thought  I  heard  a  cry,"  began  the  Doctor,  "and 
fearing  you  might  be  unwell,  I  did  not  hesitate  to  offer 
this  intrusion." 

Silas,  with  a  flushed  face  and  a  fearful  beating  heart, 
kept  between  the  Doctor  and  the  bed;  but  he  found  no 
voice  to  answer. 

"You  are  in  the  dark,"  pursued  the  Doctor;  "and  yet 
you  have  not  even  begun  to  prepare  for  rest.  You  will 
not  easily  persuade  me  against  my  own  eyesight;  and  your 
face  declares  most  eloquently  that  you  require  either  a 
friend  or  a  physician — which  is  it  to  be?  Let  me  feel 
your  pulse,  for  that  is  often  a  just  reporter  of  the  heart. ' ' 

He  advanced  to  Silas,  who  still  retreated  before  him 
backwards,  and  sought  to  take  him  by  the  wrist;  but  the 
strain  on  the  young  American's  nerves  had  become  too 
great  for  endurance.  He  avoided  the  Doctor  with  a  febrile 


52  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

movement,  and,  throwing  himself  upon  the  floor,  burst 
into  a  flood  of  weeping. 

As  soon  as  Dr.  Noel  perceived  the  dead  man  in  the 
bed  his  face  darkened;  and  hurrying  back  to  the  door 
which  he  had  left  ajar,  he  hastily  closed  and  double- 
locked  it. 

"Up!"  he  cried,  addressing  Silas  in  strident  tones. 
"This  is  no  time  for  weeping.  What  have  you  done? 
How  came  this  body  in  your  room?  Speak  freely  to  one 
who  may  be  helpful.  Do  you  imagine  I  would  ruin  you? 
Do  you  think  this  piece  of  dead  flesh  on  your  pillow  can 
alter  in  any  degree  the  sympathy  with  which  you  have 
inspired  me?  Credulous  youth,  the  horror  with  which 
blind  and  unjust  law  regards  an  action  never  attaches  to 
the  doer  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  love  him;  and  if  I  saw 
the  friend  of  my  heart  turn  to  me  out  of  seas  of  blood  he 
would  be  in  no  way  changed  in  my  affection.  Raise  your- 
self," he  said;  "good  and  ill  are  a  chimera;  there  is 
naught  in  life  except  destiny,  and  however  you  may  be 
circumstanced  there  is  one  at  your  side  who  will  help  you 
to  the  last." 

Thus  encouraged,  Silas  gathered  himself  together,  and 
in  a  broken  voice,  and  helped  out  by  the  Doctor's  inter- 
rogations, contrived  at  last  to  put  him  in  possession  of 
the  facts.  But  the  conversation  between  the  Prince  and 
Gerald ine  he  altogether  omitted,  as  he  had  understood 
little  of  its  purport,  and  had  no  idea  that  it  was  in  any 
way  related  to  his  own  misadventure. 

"Alas!?"  cried  Dr.  Noel,  "I  am  much  abused,  or  you 
have  fallen  innocently  into  the  most  dangerous  hands  in 
Europe.  Poor  boy,  what  a  pit  has  been  dug  for  your 
simplicity!  into  what  a  deadly  peril  have  your  unwary 
feet  been  conducted!  This  man,"  he  said,  "this  English- 
man, whom  you  twice  saw,  and  whom  I  suspect  to  be  the 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  53 

soul  of  the  contrivance,  can  you  describe  him?  Was  he 
young  or  old?  tall  or  short?" 

But  Silas,  who  for  all  his  curiosity,  had  not  a  seeing 
eye  in  his  head,  was  able  to  supply  nothing  but  meagre 
generalities,  which  it  was  impossible  to  recognize. 

"I  would  have  it  a  piece  of  education  in  all  schools!" 
cried  the  Doctor  angrily.  "Where  is  the  use  of  eyesight 
and  articulate  speech  if  a  man  cannot  observe  and  recol- 
lect the  features  of  his  enemy?  I,  who  know  all  the  .gangs 
of  Europe,  might  have  identified  him,  and  gained  new 
weapons  for  your  defence.  Cultivate  this  art  in  future, 
my  poor  boy;  you  may  find  it  of  momentous  service." 

"The  future!"  repeated  Silas.  "What  future  is  there 
left  for  me  except  the  gallows?" 

"Youth  is  but  a  cowardly  season, ' '  returned  the  Doctor; 
"and  a  man's  own  troubles  look  blacker  than  they  are.  I 
am  old,  and  yet  I  never  despair." 

"Can  I  tell  such  a  story  to  the  police?"  demanded  Silas. 

"Assuredly  not,"  replied  the  Doctor.  "From  what  I 
see  already  of  the  machination  in  which  you  have  been 
involved,  your  case  is  desperate  upon  that  side;  and  for 
the  narrow  eye  of  the  authorities  you  are  infallibly  the 
guilty  person.  And  remember  that  we  only  know  a  por- 
tion of  the  plot;  and  the  same  infamous  contrivers  have 
doubtless  arranged  many  other  circumstances  which  would 
be  elicited  by  a  police  inquiry,  and  help  to  fix  the  guilt 
more  certainly  upon  your  innocence." 

"I  am  then  lost,  indeed!"  cried  Silas. 

"I  have  not  said  so,"  answered  Dr.  Noel,  "for  I  am  a 
cautious  man." 

"But  look  at  this!"  objected  Silas,  pointing  to  the 
body.  "Here  is  this  object  in  my  bed:  not  to  be  ex- 
plained, not  to  be  disposed  of,  not  to  be  regarded  without 
horror. ' ' 


54  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"Horror?"  replied  the  Doctor.  "No.  When  this  sort 
of  clock  has  run  down,  it  is  no  more  to  me  than  an  in- 
genious piece  of  mechanism,  to  be  investigated  with  the 
bistery.  When  blood  is  once  cold  and  stagnant,  it  is  no 
longer  human  blood;  when  flesh  is  once  dead,  it  is  no 
longer  that  flesh  which  we  desire  in  our  lovers  and  respect 
in  our  friends.  The  grace,  the  attraction,  the  terror, 
have  all  gone  from  it  with  the  animating  spirit.  Accus- 
tom yourself  to  look  upon  it  with  composure;  for  if  my 
scheme  is  practicable  you  will  have  to  live  in  constant 
proximity  to  that  which  now  so  greatly  horrifies  you." 

"Your  scheme?"  cried  Silas.  "What  is  that?  Tell  me 
speedily,  Doctor;  for  I  have  scarcely  courage  enough  to 
continue  to  exist. ' ' 

Without  replying,  Dr.  Noel  turned  towards  the  bed, 
and  proceeded  to  examine  the  corpse. 

"Quite  dead,"  he  murmured.  "Yes,  as  I  had  sup- 
posed, the  pockets  empty.  Yes,  and  the  name  cut  off  the 
shirt.  Their  work  has  been  done  thoroughly  and  well. 
Fortunately  he  is  of  small  stature. ' ' 

Silas  followed  these  words  with  an  extreme  anxiety.  At 
last  the  Doctor,  his  autopsy  completed,  took  a  chair  and 
addressed  the  young  American  with  a  smile. 

"Since  I  came  into  your  room,"  said  he,  "although  my 
ears  and  my  tongue  have  been  so  busy,  I  have  not  suffered 
my  eyes  to  remain  idle.  I  noted  a  little  while  ago  that 
you  have  there,  in  the  corner,  one  of  those  monstrous 
constructions  which  your  fellow-countrymen  carry  with 
them  into  all  quarters  of  the  globe — in  a  word,  a  Saratoga 
trunk.  Until  this  moment  I  have  never  been  able  to  con- 
ceive the  utility  of  these  erections;  but  tben  I  began  to 
have  a  glimmer.  Whether  it  was  lor  GOHYenienee  in  the 
slave  trade,  or  to  ofcriate  th«  results  of  teo  ready  an  em- 
ployment of  the  bowie-knife,  I  cannot  bring  myself  to 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  55 

decide.    But  one  thing  I  see  plainly — the  object  of  such  a 
box  is  to  contain  a  human  body. ' ' 

"Surely,"  cried  Silas,  "surely  this  is  not  a  time  for 
jesting. ' ' 

"Although  I  may  express  myself  with  some  degree  of 
pleasantry, ' '  replied  the  Doctor, ' '  the  purport  of  my  words 
is  entirely  serious.  And  the  first  thing  we  have  to  do,  my 
young  friend,  is  to  empty  your  coffer  of  all  it  contains. ' ' 

Silas,  obeying  the  authority  of  Doctor  Noel,  put  him- 
self at  his  disposition.  The  Saratoga  trunk  was  soon 
gutted  of  its  contents,  which  made  a  considerable  litter 
on  the  floor;  and  then — Silas  taking  the  heels  and  the 
Doctor  supporting  the  shoulders — the  body  of  the  mur- 
dered man  was  carried  from  the  bed,  and,  after  some 
difficulty,  doubled  up  and  inserted  whole  into  the  empty 
box.  With  an  effort  on  the  part  of  both,  the  lid  was 
forced  down  upon  this  unusual  baggage,  and  the  trunk 
was  locked  and  corded  by  the  Doctor's  own  hand,  while 
Silas  disposed  of  what  had  been  taken  out  between  the 
closet  and  a  chest  of  drawers. 

"Now,"  said  the  Doctor,  "the  first  step  has  been  taken 
on  the  way  to  your  deliverance.  To-morrow,  or  rather 
to-day,  it  must  be  your  task  to  allay  the  suspicions  of 
your  porter,  paying  him  all  that  you  owe;  while  you  may 
trust  me  to  make  the  arrangements  necessary  to  a  safe 
conclusion.  Meantime,  follow  me  to  my  room,  where  I 
shall  give  you  a  safe  and  powerful  opiate;  for,  whatever 
you  do,  you  must  have  rest." 

The  next  day  was  the  longest  in  Silas's  memory;  it 
seemed  as  if  it  would  never  be  done.  He  denied  himself 
to  his  friends,  and  sat  in  a  corner  with  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  Saratoga  trunk  in  dismal  contemplation.  His 
own  former  indiscretions  were  now  returned  upon  him  in 
kind;  for  the  observatory  had  been  once  more  opened,  and 


56  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

he  was  conscious  of  an  almost  continual  study  from 
Madame  Zephyrine's  apartment.  So  distressing  did  this 
become,  that  he  was  at  last  obliged  to  block  up  the  spy- 
hole from  his  own  side;  and  when  he  was  thus  secured 
from  observation  he  spent  a  considerable  portion  of  his 
time  in  contrite  tears  and  prayer. 

Late  in  the  evening  Dr.  Noel  entered  the  room  carry- 
ing in  his  hand  a  pair  of  sealed  envelopes  without  address, 
one  somewhat  bulky,  and  the  other  so  slim  as  to  seem 
without  enclosure. 

"Silas,"  he  said,  seating  himself  at  the  table,  "the 
time  has  now  come  for  me  to  explain  my  plan  for  your 
salvation.  To-morrow  morning,  at  an  early  hour,  Prince 
Florizel  of  Bohemia  returns  to  London,  after  having 
diverted  himself  for  a  few  days  with  the  Parisian  Car- 
nival. It  was  my  fortune,  a  good  while  ago,  to  do  Colonel 
Geraldine,  his  Master  of  the  Horse,  one  of  those  services 
so  common  in  my  profession,  which  are  never  forgotten 
upon  either  side.  I  have  no  need  to  explain  to  you  the 
nature  of  the  obligation  under  which  he  was  laid;  suffice 
it  to  say  that  I  knew  him  ready  to  serve  me  in  any  prac- 
ticable manner.  Now,  it  was  necessary  for  you  to  gain 
London  with  your  trunk  unopened.  To  this  the  Custom 
House  seemed  to  oppose  a  fatal  difficulty;  but  I  bethought 
me  that  the  baggage  of  so  considerable  a  person  as  the 
Prince,  is,  as  a  matter  of  courtesy,  passed  without  exam- 
ination by  the  officers  of  Custom.  I  applied  to  Colonel 
Geraldine,  and  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  favorable  answer. 
To-morrow,  if  you  go  before  six  to  the  hotel  where  the 
Prince  lodges,  your  baggage  will  be  passed  over  as  a  part 
of  his,  and  you  yourself  will  make  the  journey  as  a  mem- 
ber of  his  suite." 

"It  seems  to  me,  as  you  speak,  that  I  have  already  seen 
both  the  Prince  and  Colonel  Geraldine;  I  even  overheard 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  57 

some  of  their  conversation  the  other  evening  at  the  Bullier 
Ball." 

"It  is  probable  [enough;  for  the  Prince  loves  to  mix 
with  all  societies, "  replied  the  Doctor.  "Once  arrived 
in  London,"  he  pursued,  "your  task  is  nearly  ended.  In 
this  more  bulky  envelope  I  have  given  you  a  letter  which 
I  dare  not  address;  but  in  the  other  you  will  find  the 
designation  of  the  house  to  which  you  must  carry  it  along 
with  your  box,  which  will  there  be  taken  from  you  and 
not  trouble  you  any  more." 

"Alas!"  said  Silas,  "I  have  every  wish  to  believe  you; 
but  how  is  it  possible?  You  open  up  to  me  a  bright 
prospect,  but,  I  ask  you,  is  my  mind  capable  of  receiving 
so  unlikely  a  solution?  Be  more  generous,  and  let  me 
further  understand  your  meaning." 

The  Doctor  seemed  painfully  impressed. 

"Boy,"  he  answered,  "you  do  not  know  how  hard  a 
thing  you  ask  of  me.  But  be  it  so.  I  am  now  inured  to 
humiliation;  and  it  would  be  strange  if  I  refused  you 
this,  after  having  granted  you  so  much.  Know,  then, 
that  although  I  now  make  so  quiet  an  appearance — 
frugal,  solitary,  addicted  to  study — when  I  was  younger, 
my  name  was  once  a  rallying-cry  among  the  most  astute 
and  dangerous  spirits  of  London;  and  while  I  was  out- 
wardly an  object  for  respect  and  consideration,  my  true 
power  resided  in  the  most  secret,  terrible,  and  criminal 
relations.  It  is  one  of  the  persons  who  then  obeyed  me 
that  I  now  address  myself  to  deliver  you  from  your 
burden.  They  were  men  of  many  different  nations 
and  dexterities,  all  bound  together  by  a  formidable 
oath,  and  working  to  the  same  purposes;  the  trade  of 
the  association  was  in  murder;  and  I  who  speak  to  you, 
innocent  as  I  appear,  was  the  chieftain  of  this  redoubt- 
able crew." 


58  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"What?"  cried  Silas.  "A  murderer?  And  one  with 
whom  murder  was  a  trade?  Can  I  take  your  hand?  Ought 
I  to  so  much  as  accept  your  services?  Dark  and  criminal 
old  man,  would  you  make  an  accomplice  of  my  youth  and 
my  distress." 

The  Doctor  bitterly  laughed. 

"You  are  difficult  to  please,  Mr.  Scuddamore,"  said 
he ;  '  'but  I  now  offer  you  your  choice  of  company  between 
the  murdered  man  and  the  murderer.  If  your  conscience 
is  too  nice  to  accept  my  aid,  say  so,  and  I  will  immedi- 
ately leave  you.  Thenceforward  you  can  deal  with  your 
trunk  and  its  belongings  as  best  suits  your  upright 
conscience. ' ' 

"I  own  myself  wrong,"  replied  Silas.  "I  should  have 
remembered  how  generously  you  offered  to  shield  me, 
even  before  I  had  convinced  you  of  my  innocence,  and  I 
continue  to  listen  to  your  counsels  with  gratitude." 

"That  is  well,"  returned  the  Doctor;  "and  I  perceive 
you  are  beginning  to  learn  some  of  the  lessons  of  experi- 
ence. * ' 

"At  the  same  time,"  resumed  the  New-Englander,  "as 
you  confess  yourself  accustomed  to  this  tragical  business, 
and  the  people  to  whom  you  recommend  me  are  your  own 
former  associates  and  friends,  could  you  not  yourself 
undertake  the  transport  of  the  box,  and  rid  me  at  once 
of  its  detested  presence. ' ' 

"Upon  my  word,"  replied  the  Doctor,  "I  admire  you 
cordially.  If  you  do  not  think  I  have  already  meddled 
sufficiently  in  your  concerns,  believe  me,  from  my  heart  I 
think  the  contrary.  Take  or  leave  my  services  as  I  offer 
them ;  and  trouble  me  with  no  more  words  of  gratitude, 
for  I  value  your  consideration  even  more  lightly  than  I 
do  your  intellect.  A  time  will  come,  if  you  should  be 
spared  to  see  a  number  of  years  in  health  and  mind,  when 


THE  SUICIBE  CLUB  59 

you  will  think  differently  of  all  this,  and  blush  for  your 
to-night's  behavior.*' 

So  saying,  the  Doctor  arose  from  his  chair,  repeated 
his  directions  briefly  and  clearly,  and  departed  from  the 
room  without  permitting  Silas  any  time  to  answer. 

The  next  morning  Silas  presented  himself  at  the  hotel, 
where  he  was  politely  received  by  Colonel  Geraldine,  and 
relieved,  from  that  moment,  of  all  immediate  alarm  about 
his  trunk  and  its  grisly  contents.  The  journey  passed  over 
without  much  incident,  although  the  young  man  was 
horrified  to  overhear  the  sailors  and  railway  porters  com- 
plaining among  themselves  about  the  unusual  weight  of 
the  Prince's  baggage.  Silas  traveled  in  a  carriage  with 
the  valets,  for  Prince  Florizel  chose  to  be  alone  with  his 
Master  of  the  Horse.  On  board  the  steamer,  however, 
Silas  attracted  his  Highness's  attention  by  the  melancholy 
of  his  air  and  attitude  as  he  stood  gazing  at  the  pile  of 
baggage;  for  he  was  still  full  of  disquietude  about  the 
future. 

"There  is  a  young  man,"  observed  the  Prince,  "who 
must  have  some  cause  for  sorrow. ' ' 

"That,"  replied  Geraldine,  "is  the  American  for  whom 
I  obtained  permission  to  travel  with  your  suite." 

'  'You  remind  me  that  I  have  been  remiss  in  courtesy, ' ' 
said  Prince  Florizel,  and  advancing  to  Silas,  he  addressed 
him  with  the  most  exquisite  condescension  in  these  words: 

"I  was  charmed,  young  sir,  to  be  able  to  gratify  the 
desire  you  made  known  to  me  through  Colonel  Geraldine. 
Remember,  if  you  please,  that  I  shall  be  glad  at  any  future 
time  to  lay  you  under  a  more  serious  obligation." 

And  then  he  put  some  questions  as  to  the  political  con- 
dition of  America,  which  Silas  answered  with  sense  and 
propriety. 

"You  are  still  a  young  man,"  said  the  Prince;  "but  I 


60  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

observe  you  to  be  very  serious  for  your  years.  Perhaps 
you  allow  your  attention  to  be  too  much  occupied  with 
grave  studies.  But,  perhaps,  on  the  other  hand,  I  am 
myself  indiscreet  and  touch  upon  a  painful  subject." 

"I  have  certainly  cause  to  be  the  most  miserable  of 
men,"  said  Silas;  "never  has  a  more  innocent  person  been 
more  dismally  abused." 

"I  will  not  ask  you  for  your  confidence,"  returned 
Prince  Florizel.  "But  do  not  forget  that  Colonel  Geral- 
dine's  recommendation  is  an  unfailing  passport;  and  that 
I  am  not  only  willing,  but  possibly  more  able  than  many 
others,  to  do  you  a  service." 

Silas  was  delighted  with  the  amiability  of  this  great 
personage;  but  his  mind  soon  returned  upon  its  gloomy 
preoccupations;  for  not  even  the  favor  of  a  Prince  to  a 
Republican  can  discharge  a  brooding  spirit  of  its  cares. 

The  train  arrived  at  Charing  Cross,  where  the  officers 
of  the  Revenue  respected  the  baggage  of  Prince  Florizel 
in  the  usual  manner.  The  most  elegant  equipages  were  in 
waiting;  and  Silas  was  driven,  along  with  the  rest,  to  the 
Prince's  residence.  There  Colonel  Geraldine  sought  him 
out,  and  expressed  himself  pleased  to  have  been  of  any 
service  to  a  friend  of  the  physician's,  for  whom  he  pro- 
fessed a  great  consideration. 

"I  hope,"  he  added,  "that  you  will  find  none  of  your 
porcelain  injured.  Special  orders  were  given  along  the 
line  to  deal  tenderly  with  the  Prince's  effects." 

And  then,  directing  the  servants  to  place  one  of  the 
carriages  at  the  young  gentleman's  disposal,  and  at  once 
to  charge  the  Saratoga  trunk  upon  the  dickey,  the  Colonel 
shook  hands  and  excused  himself  on  account  of  his  occu- 
pations in  the  princely  household. 

Silas  now  broke  the  seal  of  the  envelope  containing  the 
address,  and  directed  the  stately  footman  to  drive  him  to 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  61 

Box  Court,  opening  off  the  Strand.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
place  were  not  at  all  unknown  to  the  man,  for  he  looked 
startled  and  begged  a  repetition  of  the  order.  It  was 
with  a  heart  full  of  alarms,  that  Silas  mounted  into  the 
luxurious  vehicle,  and  was  driven  to  his  destination. 
The  entrance  to  Box  Court  was  too  narrow  for  the  passage 
of  a  coach;  it  was  a  mere  footway  between  railings,  with 
a  post  at  either  end.  On  one  of  these  posts  was  seated  a 
man,  who  at  once  jumped  down  and  exchanged  a  friendly 
sign  with  the  driver,  while  the  footman  opened  the  door 
and  inquired  of  Silas  whether  he  should  take  down  the 
Saratoga  trunk,  and  to  what  number  it  should  be  carried. 

"If  you  please,"  said  Silas.    "To  number  three." 

The  footman  and  the  man  who  had  been  sitting  on  the 
post,  even  with  the  aid  of  Silas  himself,  had  hard  work 
to  carry  in  the  trunk;  and  before  it  was  deposited  at  the 
door  of  the  house  in  question,  the  young  American  was 
horrified  to  find  a  score  of  loiterers  looking  on.  But  he 
knocked  with  as  good  a  countenance  as  he  could  muster 
up,  and  presented  the  other  envelope  to  him  who  opened. 

"He  is  not  at  home,"  said  he,  "but  if  you  will  leave 
your  letter  and  return  to-morrow  early,  I  shall  be  able  to 
inform  you  whether  and  when  he  can  receive  your  visit. 
Would  you  like  to  leave  your  box?"  he  added. 

"Dearly,"  cried  Silas;  and  the  next  moment  he  re- 
pented his  precipitation,  and  declared,  with  equal  em- 
phasis, that  he  would  rather  carry  the  box  along  with  him 
to  the  hotel. 

The  crowd  jeered  at  his  indecision  and  followed  him  to 
the  carriage  with  insulting  remarks;  and  Silas,  covered 
with  shame  and  terror,  implored  the  servants  to  conduct 
him  to  some  quiet  and  comfortable  house  of  entertainment 
in  the  immediate  neighborhood. 

The  Prince's  equipage  deposited  Silas  at  the  Craven 


62  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

Hotel  in  Craven  Street,  and  immediately  drove  away, 
leaving  him  alone  with  the  servants  of  the  inn.  The  only 
vacant  room,  it  appeared,  was  a  little  den  up  four  pairs 
of  stairs,  and  looking  towards  the  back.  To  this  hermi- 
tage, with  infinite  trouble  and  complaint,  a  pair  of  stout 
porters  carried  the  Saratoga  trunk.  It  is  needless  to 
mention  that  Silas  kept  closely  at  their  heels  throughout 
the  ascent,  and  had  his  heart  in  his  mouth  at  every  cor- 
ner. A  single  false  step,  he  reflected,  and  the  box  might 
go  over  the  bannisters  and  land  its  fatal  contents,  plainly 
discovered,  on  the  pavement  of  the  hall. 

Arrived  in  the  room,  he  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  his 
bed  to  recover  from  the  agony  that  he  had  just  endured ; 
but  he  had  hardly  taken  his  position  when  he  was  recalled 
to  a  sense  of  his  peril  by  the  action  of  the  boots,  who  had 
knelt  beside  the  trunk,  and  was  proceeding  officiously  to 
undo  its  elaborate  fastenings. 

"Let  it  be!"  cried  Silas.  "I  shall  want  nothing  from 
it  while  I  stay  here." 

"You  might  have  let  it  lie  in  the  hall,  then,"  growled 
the  man;  "a  thing  as  big  and  heavy  as  a  church.  What 
you  have  inside,  I  cannot  fancy.  If  it  is  all  money,  you 
are  a  richer  man  than  me. ' ' 

"Money?"  repeated  Silas,  in  a  sudden  perturbation. 
"What  do  you  mean  by  money?  I  have  no  money,  and 
you  are  speaking  like  a  fool." 

"All  right,  Captain,"  retorted  the  boots  with  a  wink. 
"There's  nobody  will  touch  your  lordship's  money.  I'm 
as  safe  as  the  bank,"  he  added;  "but  as  the  box  is  heavy, 
I  "shouldn't  mind  drinking  something  to  your  lordship's 
health." 

Silas  pressed  two  Napoleons  upon  his  acceptance,  apol- 
ogizing, at  the  same  time,  for  being  obliged  to  trouble 
him  with  foreign  money,  and  pleading  his  recent  arrival 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  63 

f*r  excuse.  And  the  man,  grumbling  with  even  greater 
fervor,  and  looking  contemptuously  from  the  money  in  his 
hand  to  the  Saratoga  trunk  and  back  again  from  the  one 
to  the  other,  at  last  consented  to  withdraw. 

For  nearly  two  days  the  dead  body  had  been  packed  into 
Silas's  box;  and  as  soon  as  he  was  alone  the  unfortunate 
New-Englander  nosed  all  the  cracks  and  openings  with 
the  most  passionate  attention.  But  the  weather  was  cool, 
and  the  trunk  still  managed  to  contain  his  shocking  secret. 

He  took  a  chair  beside  it,  and  buried  his  face  in  his 
hands,  and  his  mind  in  the  most  profound  reflection.  If 
he  were  not  speedily  relieved,  no  question  but  he  must  be 
speedily  discovered.  Alone  in  a  strange  city,  without 
friends  or  accomplices,  if  the  Doctor's  introduction  failed 
him,  he  was  indubitably  a  lost  New-Englander.  He  re- 
flected pathetically  over  his  ambitious  designs  for  the 
future ;  he  should  not  now  become  the  hero  and  spokes- 
man of  his  native  place  of  Bangor,  Maine;  he  should  not, 
as  he  had  fondly  anticipated,  move  on  from  office  to  office, 
from  honor  to  honor;  he  might  as  well  divest  himself  at 
once  of  all  hope  of  being  acclaimed  President  of  the 
United  States,  and  leaving  behind  him  a  statue,  in  the 
worst  possible  style  of  art,  to  adorn  the  Capitol  at  Wash- 
ington. Here  he  was,  chained  to  a  dead  Englishman 
doubled  up  inside  a  Saratoga  trunk;  whom  he  must  get 
rid  of,  or  perish  from  the  rolls  of  national  glory! 

I  should  be  afraid  to  chronicle  the  language  employed 
by  this  young  man  to  the  Doctor,  to  the  murdered  man, 
to  Madame  Zephyrine,  to  the  boots  of  the  hotel,  to  the 
Prince's  servants,  and,  in  a  word,  to  all  who  had  been 
ever  so  remotely  connected  with  his  horrible  misfortune. 

He  slunk  down  to  dinner  about  seven  at  night;  but  the 
yellow  coffee-room  appalled  him,  the  eyes  of  the  other 
diners  seemed  to  rest  on  his  with  suspicion,  and  his  mind 


64  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

remained  upstairs  with  the  Saratoga  trunk.  When  the 
waiter  came  to  offer  him  cheese,  his  nerves  were  already 
so  much  on  edge  that  he  leaped  half-way  out  of  his  chair 
and  upset  the  remainder  of  a  pint  of  ale  upon  the  table- 
cloth. 

The  fellow  offered  to  show  him  the  smoking-room  when 
he  had  done;  and  although  he  would  have  much  preferred 
to  return  at  once  to  his  perilous  treasure,  he  had  not  the 
courage  to  refuse,  and  was  shown  down-stairs  to  the  black, 
gas-lit  cellar,  which  formed,  and  possibly  still  forms,  the 
divan  of  the  Craven  Hotel. 

Two  very  sad  betting  men  were  playing  billiards,  at- 
tended by  a  moist,  consumptive  marker;  and  for  the  mo- 
ment Silas  imagined  that  these  were  the  only  occupants  of 
the  apartment.  But  at  the  next  glance  his  eye  fell  upon  a 
person  smoking  in  the  farthest  corner,  with  lowered  eyes 
and  a  most  respectable  and  modest  aspect.  He  knew  at 
once  that  he  had  seen  the  face  before;  and  in  spite  of  the 
entire  change  of  clothes,  recognized  the  man  whom  he  had 
found  seated  on  a  post  at  the  entrance  to  Box  Court,  and 
who  had  hepled  him  to  carry  the  trunk  to  and  from  the 
carriage.  The  New-Englander  simply  turned  and  ran, 
nor  did  he  pause  until  he  had  locked  and  bolted  himself 
into  his  bedroom. 

There,  all  night  long,  a  prey  to  the  most  terrible  imagi- 
nations, he  watched  beside  the  fatal  boxful  of  dead  flesh. 
The  suggestion  of  the  boots  that  his  trunk  was  full  of  gold 
inspired  him  with  all  manner  of  new  terrors,  if  he  so 
much  as  dared  to  close  an  eye;  and  the  presence  in  the 
smoking-room,  and  under  an  obvious  disguise,  of  the 
loiterer  from  Box  Court  convinced  him  that  he  was  once 
more  the  centre  of  obscure  machination. 

Midnight  had  sounded  some  time,  when,  impelled  by 
uneasy  suspicions,  Silas  opened  his  bedroom  door  and 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  65 

peered  into  the  passage.  It  was  dimly  illuminated  by  a 
single  jet  of  gas;  and  some  distance  off  he  perceived  a 
man  sleeping  on  the  floor  in  the  costume  of  an  hotel 
under-servant.  Silas  drew  near  the  man  on  tip-toe.  He 
lay  partly  on  his  back,  partly  on  his  side,  and  his  right 
forearm  concealed  his  face  from  recognition.  Suddenly, 
while  the  American  was  still  bending  over  him,  the  sleeper 
removed  his  arm  and  opened  his  eyes  and  Silas  found 
himself  once  more  face  to  face  with  the  loiterer  of  Box 
Court. 

"Good  night,  sir,"  said  the  man,  pleasantly. 

But  Silas  was  too  profoundly  moved  to  find  an  answer, 
and  regained  his  room  in  silence. 

Towards  morning,  worn  out  by  apprehension,  he  fell 
asleep  on  his  chair,  with  his  head  forward  on  the  trunk. 
In  spite  of  so  constrained  an  attitude  and  such  a  grisly 
pillow,  his  slumber  was  sound  and  prolonged,  and  he  was 
only  awakened  at  a  late  hour  and  by  a  sharp  tapping  at 
the  door. 

He  hurried  to  open,  and  found  the  boots  without. 

"You  are  the  gentleman  who  called  yesterday  at  Box 
Court?"  he  asked. 

Silas,  with  a  quaver,  admitted  that  he  had  done  so. 

"Then  this  note  is  for  you,"  added  the  servant,  proffer- 
ing a  sealed  envelope. 

Silas  tore  it  open,  and  found  inside  the  words:  "Twelve 
o'clock." 

He  was  punctual  to  the  hour;  the  trunk  was  carriedfbe- 
fore  him  by  several  stout  servants;  and  ke  was  himself 
ushered  into  a  room,  where  a  man  sat  warming  himself 
before  the  fire  with  his  back  towards  the  d«or.  The  sound 
of  so  many  persons  entering  and  leaving,  and  the  scraping 
of  the  trunk  as  it  was  deposited  upon  the  bare  boards, 
were  alike  unable  to  attract  the  notice  of  the  occupant; 


66  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

and  Silas  stood  waiting,  in  an  agony  of  fear,  until  he 
should  deign  to  recognize  his  presence. 

Perhaps  five  minutes  had  elapsed  before  the  man  turned 
leisurely  about,  and  disclosed  the  features  of  Prince  Flor- 
izel  of  Bohemia. 

"So,  sir,"  he  said  with  great  severity,  "this  is  the 
manner  in  which  you  abuse  my  politeness.  You  join 
yourselves  to  persons  of  condition,  I  perceive,  for  no  other 
purpose  than  to  escape  the  consequences  of  your  crimes; 
and  I  can  readily  understand  your  embarrassment  when  I 
addressed  myself  to  you  yesterday. ' ' 

"Indeed,"  cried  Silas,  "I  am  innocent  of  everything 
except  misfortune." 

And  in  a  hurried  voice,  and  with  the  greatest  ingenu- 
ousness, he  recounted  to  the  Prince  the  whole  history  of 
his  calamity. 

"I  see  I  have  been  mistaken,"  said  his  Highness,  when 
he  had  heard  him  to  an  end.  "You  are  no  other  than  a 
victim,  and  since  I  am  not  to  punish  you,  you  may  be 
sure  I  shall  do  my  utmost  to  help.  And  now, ' '  he  con- 
tinued, "to  business.  Open  your  box  at  once,  and  let  me 
see  what  it  contains. ' ' 

Silas  changed  color. 

"I  almost  fear  to  look  upon  it,"  he  exclaimed. 

"Nay,"  replied  the  Prince,  "have  you  not  looked  at  it 
already?  This  is  a  form  of  sentimentality  to  be  resisted. 
The  sight  of  a  sick  man,  whom  we  can  still  help,  should 
appeal  more  directly  to  the  feelings  than  that  of  a  dead 
man  who  is  equally  beyond  help  or  harm,  love  or  hatred. 
Nerve  yourself,  Mr.  Scuddamore,"  and  then,  seeing  that 
Silas  still  hesitated,  "I  do  not  desire  to  give  another 
name  to  my  request, ' '  he  added. 

The  young  American  awoke  as  if  out  of  a  dream,  and 
with  a  shiver  of  repugnance  addressed  himself  to  loose 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  67 

the  straps  and  open  the  lock  of  the  Saratoga  trunk.  The 
Prince  stood  by,  watching  with  a  composed  countenance 
and  his  hands  behind  his  back.  The  body  was  quite  stiff, 
and  it  cost  Silas  a  great  effort,  both  moral  and  physical, 
to  dislodge  it  from  its  position,  and  discover  the  face. 

Prince  Florizel  started  back  with  an  exclamation  of 
painful  surprise. 

"Alas!"  he  cried,  "you  little  know,  Mr.  Scuddamore, 
what  a  cruel  gift  you  have  brought  me.  This  is  a  young 
man  of  my  own  suite,  the  brother  of  my  trusted  friend ; 
and  it  was  upon  matters  of  my  own  service  that  he  has 
thus  perished  at  the  hands  of  violent  and  treacherous  men. 
Poor  Geraldine,"  he  went  on,  as  if  to  himself,  "in  what 
words  am  I  to  tell  you  of  your  brother's  fate?  How  can  I 
excuse  myself  in  your  eyes,  or  in  the  eyes  of  God,  for  the 
presumptuous  schemes  that  led  him  to  this  bloody  and 
unnatural  death?  Ah,  Florizel!  Florizel!  when  will  you 
learn  the  discretion  that  suits  mortal  life,  and  be  no 
longer  dazzled  with  the  image  of  power  at  your  disposal? 
Power!"  he  cried;  "who  is  more  powerless?  I  look  upon 
this  young  man  whom  I  have  sacrificed,  Mr.  Scuddamore, 
and  feel  how  small  a  thing  it  is  to  be  a  Prince." 

Silas  was  moved  at  the  sight  of  his  emotion.  He  tried 
to  murmur  some  consolatory  words,  and  burst  into  tears. 
The  Prince,  touched  by  his  obvious  intention,  came  up  to 
him  and  took  him  by  the  hand. 

"Command  yourself,"  said  he.  "We  have  both  much 
to  learn,  and  we  shall  both  be  better  men  for  to-day's 
meeting. ' ' 

Silas  thanked  him  in  silence  with  an  affectionate  look. 

"Write  me  the  address  of  Doctor  Noel  on  this  piece  of 
paper,"  continued  the  Prince,  leading  him  towards  the 
table ;  '  'and  let  me  recommend  you,  when  you  are  again 
in  Paris,  to  avoid  the  society  of  that  dangerous  man.  He 


68  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

has  acted  in  this  matter  on  a  generous  inspiration;  that  1 
must  believe;  had  he  been  privy  to  young  Geraldine's 
death  he  would  never  have  despatched  the  body  to  the 
care  of  the  actual  criminal." 

"The  actual  criminal!"  repeated  Silas  in  astonishment. 

"Even  so,"  returned  the  Prince.  "This  letter,  which 
the  disposition  of  Almighty  Providence  has  so  strangely 
delivered  into  my  hands,  was  addressed  to  no  less  a  person 
than  the  criminal  himself,  the  infamous  President  of  the 
Suicide  Club.  Seek  to  pry  no  further  in  these  perilous 
affairs,  but  content  yourself  with  your  own  miraculous 
escape,  and  leave  this  house  at  once.  I  have  pressing 
affairs,  and  must  arrange  at  once  about  this  poor  clay, 
which  was  so  lately  a  gallant  and  handsome  youth." 

Silas  took  a  grateful  and  submissive  leave  of  Prince 
Florizel,  but  he  lingered  in  Box  Court  until  he  saw  him 
depart  in  a  splendid  carriage  on  a  visit  to  Colonel  Hen- 
derson of  the  police.  Republican  as  he  was,  the  young 
American  took  off  his  hat  with  almost  a  sentiment  of  de- 
votion to  the  retreating  carriage.  And  the  same  night 
he  started  by  rail  on  his  return  to  Paris. 

Here  (observes  my  Arabian  Author)  is  the  end  of  THE 
HISTORY  OF  THE  PHYSICIAN  AND  THE  SARATOGA  .TRUNK. 
Omitting  some  reflections  on  the  power  of  Providence, 
highly  pertinent  in  the  original,  but  little  suited  to  our 
occidental  taste,  I  shall  only  add  that  Mr.  Scuddamore 
has  already  begun  to  mount  the  ladder  of  political  fame, 
and  by  last  advices  was  the  Sheriff  of  his  native  town. 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  HANSOM  CAB 

Lieutenant  Brackenbury  Rich  had  greatly  distinguished 
himself  in  one  of  the  lesser  Indian  hill  wars.  He  it  was 
who  took  the  chieftain  prisoner  with  his  own  hand;  his 
gallantry  was  universally  applauded;  and  when  he  came 
home,  prostrated  by  an  ugly  sabre  cut  and  a  protracted 
jungle  fever,  society  was  prepared  to  welcome  the  Lieu- 
tenant as  a  celebrity  of  minor  luster.  But  his  was  a 
character  remarkable  for  unaffected  modesty;  adventure 
was  dear  to  his  heart,  but  he  cared  little  for  adulation; 
and  he  waited  at  foreign  watering-places  and  in  Algiers 
until  the  fame  of  his  exploits  had  run  through  its  nine 
day's  vitality  and  begun  to  be  forgotten.  He  arrived  in 
London  at  last,  in  the  early  season,  with  as  little  observa- 
tion as  he  could  desire;  and  as  he  was  an  orphan  and  had 
none  but  distant  relatives  who  lived  in  the  provinces,  it 
was  almost  as  a  foreigner  that  he  installed  himself  in  the 
capital  of  the  country  for  which  he  had  shed  his  blood. 

On  the  day  following  his  arrival  he  dined  alone  at  a 
military  club.  He  shook  hands  with  a  few  old  comrades, 
and  received  their  congratulations;  but  as  one  and  all  had 
some  engagement  for  the  evening,  he  found  himself  left 
entirely  to  his  own  resources.  He  was  in  dress,  for  he 
had  entertained  the  notion  of  visiting  a  theatre.  But  the 
great  city  was  new  to  him;  he  had  gone  from  a  provincial 
school  to  a  military  college,  and  thence  direct  to  the 
Eastern  Empire;  and  he  promised  himself  a  variety  of 
delights  in  this  world  for  exploration.  Swinging  his 
cane,  he  took  his  way  westward.  It  was  a  mild  evening, 
already  dark,  and  now  and  then  threatening  rain.  The 
succession  of  faces  in  the  lamplight  stirred  the  Lieuten- 
ant's imagination;  and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  could 


70  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

walk  forever  in  that  stimulating  city  atmosphere  and 
surrounded  by  the  mystery  of  four  million  private  lives. 
He  glanced  at  the  houses,  and  marvelled  what  was  passing 
behind  those  warmly-lighted  windows;  he  looked  into 
face  after  face,  and  saw  them  each  intent  upon  some  un- 
known interest,  criminal  or  kindly. 

"They  talk  of  war,"  he  thought,  "but  this  is  the  great 
battlefield  of  mankind." 

And  then  he  began  to  wonder  that  he  should  walk  so 
long  in  this  complicated  scene,  and  not  chance  upon  so 
much  as  the  shadow  of  an  adventure  for  himself. 

'  'All  in  good  time, ' '  he  reflected.  ' ' I  am  still  a  stranger, 
and  perhaps  wear  a  strange  air.  But  I  must  be  drawn 
into  the  eddy  before  long. ' ' 

The  night  was  already  well  advanced,  when  a  plump  of 
cold  rain  fell  suddenly  out  of  the  darkness.  Brackenbury 
paused  under  some  trees,  and  as  he  did  so  he  caught  sight 
of  a  hansom  cabman  making  him  a  sign  that  he  was  dis- 
engaged. The  circumstance  fell  in  so  happily  to  the 
occasion  that  he  at  once  raised  his  cane  in  answer,  and 
had  soon  ensconced  himself  in  the  London  gondola. 

"Where  to,  sir?"  asked  the  driver. 

"Where  you  please,"  said  Brackenbury. 

And  immediately,  at  a  pace  of  surprising  swiftness, 
the  hansom  drove  off  through  the  rain  into  a  maze  of 
villas.  One  villa  was  so  like  another,  each  with  its  front 
garden,  and  there  was  so  little  to  distinguish  the  deserted 
lamp-lit  streets  and  crescents  through  which  the  flying 
hansom  took  its  way,  that  Brackenbury  soon  lost  all  idea 
of  direction.  He  would  have  been  contented  to  believe 
that  the  cabman  was  amusing  himself  by  driving  him 
round  and  round  and  in  and  out  about  a  small  quarter, 
but  there  was  something  businesslike  in  the  speed  which 
convinced  him  of  the  contrary.  The  man  had  an  object  in 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  71 

view,  he  was  hastening  towards  a  definite  end;  and  Brack- 
enbury  was  at  once  astonished  at  the  fellow's  skill  in 
picking  a  way  through  such  a  labyrinth,  and  a  little  con- 
cerned to  imagine  what  was  the  occasion  of  his  hurry. 
He  had  heard  tales  of  strangers  falling  ill  in  London. 
Did  the  driver  belong  to  some  bloody  and  treacherous 
association?  and  was  he  himself  being  whirled  to  a  mur- 
derous death? 

The  thought  had  scarcely  presented  itself,  when  the  cab 
swung  sharply  round  a  corner  and  pulled  up  before  the 
garden  gate  of  a  villa  in  a  long  and  wide  road.  The  house 
was  brilliantly  lighted  up.  Another  hansom  had  just 
driven  away,  and  Brackenbury  could  see  a  gentleman  be- 
ing admitted  at  the  front  door  and  received  by  several 
liveried  servants.  He  was  surprised  that  the  cabman 
should  have  "stopped  so  immediately  in  front  of  a  house 
where  a  reception  was  being  held;  but  he  did  not  doubt 
it  was  the  result  of  accident,  and  sat  placidly  smoking 
where  he  was,  until  he  heard  the  trap  thrown  open  over 
his  head. 

"Here  we  are,  sir,"  said  the  driver. 

"Here!"  repeated  Brackenbury.     "Where?" 

"You  told  me  to  take  you  where  I  pleased,  sir,"  re- 
turned the  man  with  a  chuckle,  "and  here  we  are." 

It  struck  Brackenbury  that  the  voice  was  wonderfully 
smooth  and  courteous  for  a  man  in  so  inferior  a  position; 
he  remembered  the  speed  at  which  he  had  been  driven; 
and  now  it  occurred  to  him  that  the  hansom  was  more 
luxuriously  appointed  than  the  common  run  of  public 
conveyances. 

"I  must  ask  you  to  explain,"  said  he.  "Do  you  mean 
to  turn  me  out  into  the  rain?  My  good  man,  I  suspect 
the  choice  is  mine. ' ' 

"The  choice  is  certainly  yours,"  replied  the  driver; 


72  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"but  when  I  tell  you  all,  I  believe  I  know  how  a  gentle- 
man of  your  figure  will  decide.  There  is  a  gentlemen's 
party  in  this  house.  I  do  not  know  whether  the  master 
be  a  stranger  to  London  and  without  acquaintances  of  his 
own;  or  whether  he  is  a  man  of  odd  notions.  But  cer- 
tainly I  was  hired  to  kidnap  single  gentlemen  in  evening 
dress,  as  many  as  I  pleased,  but  military  officers  by  pref- 
erence. You  have  simply  to  go  in  and  say  that  Mr. 
Morris  invited  you." 

"Are  you  Mr.  Morris?"  inquired  the  Lieutenant. 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  the  cabman.  "Mr.  Morris  is  the 
person  of  the  house." 

"It  is  not  a  common  way  of  collecting  guests,"  said 
Brackenbury;  "but  an  eccentric  man  might  very  well  in- 
dulge the  whim  without  any  intention  to  offend.  And 
suppose  that  I  refuse  Mr.  Morris's  invitation,"  he  went 
on,  "what  then?" 

"My  orders  are  to  drive  you  back  where  I  took  you 
from,"  replied  the  man,  "and  set  out  to  look  for  others 
up  to  midnight.  Those  who  have  no  fancy  for  such  an 
adventure,  Mr.  Morris  said,  were  not  the  guests  for  him." 

These  words  decided  the  Lieutenant  on  the  spot. 

"After  all,"  he  reflected,  as  he  descended  from  the 
hansom,  "I  have  not  had  long  to  wait  for  my  adventure." 

He  had  hardly  found  footing  on  the  sidewalk,  and  was 
still  feeling  in  his  pocket  for  the  fare,  when  the  cab  swung 
about  and  drove  off  by  the  way  it  came  at  the  former 
breakneck  velocity.  Brackenbury  shouted  after  the  man, 
who  paid  no  heed,  and  continued  to  drive  away;  but  the 
sound  of  his  voice  was  overheard  in  the  house,  the  door 
was  again  thrown  open,  emitting  a  flood  of  light  upon 
the  garden,  and  a  servant  ran  down  to  meet  him  holding 
an  umbrella. 

"The  cabman  has  been  paid,"  observed  the  servant  in 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  73 

a  very  civil  tone;  and  he  proceeded  to  escort  Brackenbury 
along  the  path  and  up  the  steps.  In  the  hall  several  other 
attendants  relieved  him  of  his  hat,  cane,  and  paletot,  gave 
him  a  ticket  with  a  number  in  return,  and  politely  hur- 
ried him  up  a  stair  adorned  with  tropical  flowers,  to  the 
door  of  an  apartment  on  the  first  story.  Here  a  grave 
butler  inquired  his  name,  and  announcing  "Lieutenant 
Brackenbury  Rich, ' '  ushered  him  into  the  drawing-room 
of  the  house. 

A  young  man,  slender  and  singularly  handsome,  came 
forward  and  greeted  him  with  an  air  at  once  courtly  and 
affectionate.  Hundreds  of  candles,  of  the  finest  wax,  lit 
up  a  room  that  was  perfumed,  like  the  staircase,  with  a 
profusion  of  rare  and  beautiful  flowering  shrubs.  A 
side-table  was  loaded  with  tempting  viands.  Several 
servants  went  to  and  fro  with  fruits  and  goblets  of  cham- 
pagne. The  company  was  perhaps  sixteen  in  number,  all 
men,  few  beyond  the  prime  of  life,  and  with  hardly  an 
exception,  of  a  dashing  and  capable  exterior.  They  were 
divided  into  two  groups,  one  about  a  roulette  board,  and 
the  other  surrounding  a  table  at  which  one  of  their 
number  held  a  bank  of  baccarat. 

"I  see,"  thought  Brackenbury,  "I  am  in  a  private 
gambling  saloon,  and  the  cabman  was  a  tout." 

His  eye  had  embraced  the  details,  and  his  mind  formed 
the  conclusion,  while  his  host  was  still  holding-  him  by  the 
hand;  and  to  him  his  looks  returned  from  this  rapid  sur- 
vey. At  a  second  view  Mr.  Morris  surprised  him  still 
more  than  on  the  first.  The  easy  elegance  of  his  manners, 
the  distinction,  amiability,  and  courage  that  appeared 
upon  his  features,  fitted  very  ill  with  the  Lieutenant's 
preconceptions  on  the  subject  of  the  proprietor  of  a  hell; 
and  the  tone  of  his  conversation  seemed  to  mark  him  out 
for  a  man  of  position  and  merit.  Brackenbury  found  he 


74  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

had  an  instinctive  liking  for  his  entertainer;  and  though 
he  chid  himself  for  the  weakness  he  was  unable  to  resist 
a  sort  of  friendly  attraction  for  Mr.  Morris's  person  and 
character. 

"I  have  heard  of  you,  Lieutenant  Rich,"  said  Mr. 
Morris,  lowering  his  tone;  "and  believe  me  I  am  gratified 
to  make  your  acquaintance.  Your  looks  accord  with  the 
reputation  that  has  preceded  you  from  India.  And  if  you 
will  forget  for  a  while  the  irregularity  of  your  presenta- 
tion in  my  house,  I  shall  feel  it  not  only  an  honor,  but 
genuine  pleasure  besides.  A  man  who  makes  a  mouthful 
of  barbarian  cavaliers,"  he  added  with  a  laugh,  "should 
not  be  appalled  by  a  breach  of  etiquette,  however  serious. ' ' 

And  he  led  him  towards  the  sideboard  and  pressed  him 
to  partake  of  some  refreshments. 

"Upon  my  word,"  the  Lieutenant  reflected,  "this  is 
one  of  the  pleasantest  fellows  and,  I  do  not  doubt,  one  of 
the  most  agreeable  societies  in  London." 

He  partook  of  some  champagne,  which  he  found  excel- 
lent; and  observing  that  many  of  the  company  were 
already  smoking,  he  lit  one  of  his  own  Manillas,  and 
strolled  up  to  the  roulette  board,  where  he  sometimes 
made  a  stake  and  sometimes  looked  on  smilingly  on  the 
fortune  of  others.  It  was  while  he  was  thus  idling  that 
he  became  aware  of  a  sharp  scrutiny  to  which  the  whole 
of  the  guests  were  subjected.  Mr.  Morris  went  here  and 
there,  ostensibly  busied  on  hospitable  concerns;  but  he 
had  ever  a  shrewd  glance  at  disposal;  not  a  man  of  the 
party  escaped  his  sudden,  searching  looks;  he  took  stock 
of  the  bearing  of  heavy  losers,  he  valued  the  amount  of 
the  stakes,  he  paused  behind  couples  who  were  deep  in 
conversation;  and,  in  a  word,  there  was  hardly  a  charac- 
teristic of  anyone  present  but  he  seemed  to  catch  and 
make  a  note  of  it.  Brackenbury  began  to  wonder  if  this 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  75 

were  indeed  a  gambling  hell:  it  had  so  much  the  air  of  a 
private  inquisition.  He  followed  Mr.  Morris  in  all  his 
movements;  and  although  the  man  had  a  ready  smile,  he 
seemed  to  perceive,  as  it  were  under  a  mask,  a  haggard, 
careworn,  and  preoccupied  spirit.  The  fellows  around 
him  laughed  and  made  their  game;  but  Brackenbury  had 
lost  interest  in  the  guests. 

"This  Morris,"  thought  he,  "is  no  idler  in  the  room. 
Some  deep  purpose  inspires  him;  let  it  be  mine  to 
fathom  it." 

Now  and  then  Mr.  Morris  would  call  one  of  his  visitors 
aside;  and  after  a  brief  colloquy  in  an  ante-room,  he  would 
return  alone,  and  the  visitors  in  question  reappeared  no 
more.  After  a  certain  number  of  repetitions,  this  per- 
formance excited  Brackenbury's  curiosity  to  a  high  de- 
gree. He  determined  to  be  at  the  bottom  of  this  minor 
mystery  at  once;  and  strolling  into  the  ante-room,  found 
a  deep  window  recess  concealed  by  curtains  of  the  fash- 
ionable green.  Here  he  hurriedly  ensconced  himself;  nor 
had  he  to  wait  long  before  the  sound  of  steps  and  voices 
drew  near  him  from  the  principal  apartment.  Peering 
through  the  division,  he  saw  Mr.  Morris  escorting  a  fat 
and  ruddy  personage,  with  somewhat  the  look  of  a  com- 
mercial traveler,  whom  Brackenbury  had  already  remarked 
for  his  coarse  laugh  and  underbred  behavior  at  the  table. 
The  pair  halted  immediately  before  the  window,  so  that 
Brackenbury  lost  not  a  word  of  the  following  discourse: 

"I  beg  you  a  thousand  pardons!"  began  Mr.  Morris, 
with  the  most  conciliatory  manner;  "and,  if  I  appear 
rude,  I  am  sure  you  will  readily  forgive  me.  In  a  place  so 
great  as  London  accidents  must  continually  happen;  and 
the  best  that  we  can  hope  is  to  remedy  them  with  as  small 
delay  as  possible.  I  will  not  deny  that  I  fear  you  have 
made  a  mistake  and  honored  my  poor  house  by  inadvert- 


76  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

ence;  for,  to  speak  openly,  I  cannot  at  all  remember  your 
appearance.  Let  me  put  the  question  without  unnecessary 
circumlocution — between  gentlemen  of  honor  a  word  will 
suffice — Under  whose  roof  do  you  suppose  yourself  to 
be?" 

"That  of  Mr.  Morris,"  replied  the  other,  with  a  prodig- 
ious display  of  confusion,  which  had  been  visibly  growing 
upon  him  throughout  the  last  few  words. 

"Mr.  John  or  Mr.  James  Morris?"  inquired  the  host. 

"I  really  cannot  tell  you,"  returned  the  unfortunate 
guest.  "I  am  not  personally  acquainted  with  the  gentle- 
men, any  more  than  I  am  with  yourself. ' ' 

"I  see,"  said  Mr.  Morris.  "There  is  another  person  of 
the  same  name  farther  down  the  street;  and  I  have  no 
doubt  the  policeman  will  be  able  to  supply  you  with  his 
number.  Believe  me,  I  felicitate  myself  on  the  misun- 
derstanding which  has  procured  me  the  pleasure  of  your 
company  for  so  long;  and  let  me  express  a  hope  that  we 
may  meet  again  upon  a  more  regular  footing.  Mean- 
time, I  would  not  for  the  world  detain  you  longer  from 
your  friends.  John,"  he  added,  raising  his  voice,  "will 
you  see  that  the  gentleman  finds  his  great-coat?" 

And  with  the  most  agreeable  air  Mr.  Morris  escorted 
his  visitor  as  far  as  the  ante-room  door,  where  he  left 
him  under  conduct  of  the  butler.  As  he  passed  the  win- 
dow, on  his  return  to  the  drawing-room,  Brackenbury 
could  hear  him  utter  a  profound  sigh,  as  though  his  mind 
was  loaded  with  a  great  anxiety,  and  his  nerves  already 
fatigued  with  the  task  on  which  he  was  engaged. 

For  perhaps  an  hour  the  hansoms  kept  arriving  with 
such  frequency,  that  Mr.  Morris  had  to  receive  a  new 
guest  for  every  old  one  that  he  sent  away,  and  the  com- 
pany preserved  its  number  undiminished.  But  towards 
the  end  of  that  time  the  arrivals  grew  few  and  far  be- 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  77 

tween,  and  at  length  ceased  entirely,  while  the  process  of 
elimination  was  continued  with  unimpaired  activity.  The 
drawing-ro'om  began  to  look  empty :  the  baccarat  was  dis- 
continued for  lack  of  a  banker;  more  than  one  person  said 
good-night  of  his  own  accord,  and  was  suffered  to  depart 
without  expostulation:  and  in  the  meanwhile  Mr.  Morris 
redoubled  in  agreeable  attentions  to  those  who  stayed  be- 
hind. He  went  from  group  to  group  and  from  person  to 
person  with  looks  of  the  readiest  sympathy  and  the  most 
pertinent  and  pleasing  talk;  he  was  not  so  much  like  a 
host  as  like  a  hostess,  and  there  was  a  feminine  coquetry 
and  condescension  in  his  manner  which  charmed  the  hearts 
of  all. 

As  the  guests  grew  thinner,  Lieutenant  Rich  strolled 
for  a  moment  out  of  the  drawing-room  into  the  hall  in 
quest  of  fresher  air.  But  he  had  no  sooner  passed  the 
threshold  of  the  ante-chamber  than  he  was  brought  to  a 
dead  halt  by  a  discovery  of  the  most  surprising  nature. 
The  flowering  shrubs  had  disappeared  from  the  staircase; 
three  large  furniture  wagons  stood  before  the  garden 
gate;  the  servants  were  busy  dismantling  the  house  upon 
all  sides;  and  some  of  them  had  already  donned  their 
great-coats  and  were  preparing  to  depart.  It  was  like  the 
end  of  a  country  ball,  where  everything  has  been  supplied 
by  contract.  Brackenbury  had  indeed  some  matter  for 
reflection.  First,  the  guests,  who  were  no  real  guests 
after  all,  had  been  dismissed;  and  now  the  servants,  who 
could  hardly  be  genuine  servants,  were  actively  dispersing. 

"Was  the  whole  establishment  a  sham?"  he  asked  him- 
self. "The  mushroom  of  a  single  night  which  should 
disappear  before  morning?" 

Watching  a  favorable  opportunity,  Brackenbury  dashed 
upstairs  to  the  higher  regions  of  the  house.  It  was  as  he 
had  expected.  He  ran  from  room  to  room,  and  saw  not  a 


78  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

stick  of  furniture  nor  so  much  as  a  picture  on  the  walls. 
Although  the  house  had  been  painted  and  papered,  it  was 
not  only  uninhabited  at  present,  but  plainly  had  never 
been  inhabited  at  all.  The  young  officer  remembered 
with  astonishment  its  specious,  settled,  and  hospitable 
air  on  his  arrival.  It  was  only  at  a  prodigious  cost  that 
the  imposture  could  have  been  carried  out  upon  s«  great 
a  scale. 

Who,  then,  was  Mr.  Morris?  What  was  his  intention 
in  thus  playing  the  householder  for  a  single  night  in  the 
remote  west  of  Londbn?  And  why  did  he  collect  his 
visitors  at  hazard  from  the  streets? 

Brackenbury  remembered  that  he  had  already  delayed 
too  long,  and  hastened  to  join  the  company.  Many  had 
left  during  his  absence;  and  counting  the  Lieutenant  and 
his  host,  there  were  not  more  than  five  persons  in  the 
drawing-room — recently  so  thronged.  Mr.  Morris  greeted 
him,  as  he  re-entered  the  apartment,  with  a  smile,  and 
immediately  rose  to  his  feet. 

"It  is  now  time,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "to  explain  my 
purpose  in  decoying  you  from  your  amusements.  I  trust 
you  did  not  find  the  evening  hang  very  dully  on  your 
hands;  but  my  object,  I  will  confess  it,  was  not  to  enter- 
tain your  leisure,  but  to  help  myself  in  an  unfortunate 
necessity.  You  are  all  gentlemen,"  he  continued,  "your 
appearance  does  you  that  much  justice,  and  I  ask  for  no 
better  security.  Hence,  I  speak  it  without  concealment, 
I  ask  you  to  render  me  a  dangerous  and  delicate  service; 
dangerous  because  you  may  run  the  hazard  of  your  lives, 
and  delicate  because  I  must  ask  an  absolute  discretion 
upon  all  that  you  shall  see  or  hear.  From  an  utter  stranger 
the  request  is  almost  comically  extravagant;  I  am  well 
aware  of  this;  and  I  would  add  at  once,  if  there  be  anyone 
present  who  has  heard  enough,  if  there  be  one  among  the 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  79 

party  who  recoils  from  a  dangerous  confidence  and  a  piece 
of  Quixotic  devotion  to  he  knows  not  whom — here  is  my 
hand  ready,  and  I  shall  wish  him  good  night  and  God- 
speed, with  all  the  sincerity  in  the  world/' 

A  very  tall,  black  man,  with  a  heavy  stoop,  immediately 
responded  to  this  appeal. 

"I  commend  your  frankness,  sir,"  said  he;  "and,  for 
my  part,  I  go.  I  make  no  reflections;  but  I  cannot  deny 
that  you  fill  me  with  suspicious  thoughts.  I  go  myself, 
as  I  say;  and  perhaps  you  will  think  I  have  no  right  to 
add  words  to  my  example. ' ' 

"Qn  the  contrary,"  replied  Mr.  Morris,  "I  am  obliged 
to  you  for  all  you  say.  It  would  be  impossible  to  exag- 
gerate the  gravity  of  my  proposal." 

"Well,  gentlemen,  what  do  you  say?"  said  the  tall 
man,  addressing  the  others.  "We  have  had  our  evening's 
frolic;  shall  we  go  homeward  peaceably  in  a  body?  You 
will  think  well  of  my  suggestion  in  the  morning,  when 
you  see  the  sun  again  in  innocence  and  safety." 

The  speaker  pronounced  the  last  words  with  an  intona- 
tion which  added  to  their  force;  and  his  face  wore  a 
singular  expression,  full  of  gravity  and  significance. 
Another  of  the  company  rose  hastily,  and,  with  some 
appearance  of  alarm,  prepared  to  take  his  leave.  There 
were  only  two  who  held  their  ground,  Brackenbury  and 
an  old  red-nosed  cavalry  Major;  but  these  two  preserved 
a  nonchalant  demeanor,  and,  beyond  a  look  of  intelligence 
which  they  rapidly  exchanged,  appeared  entirely  foreign 
to  the  discussion  that  had  just  been  terminated. 

Mr.  Morris  conducted  the  deserters  as  far  as  the  door, 
which  he  closed  upon  their  heels;  then  he  turned  round 
disclosing  a  countenance  of  mingled  relief  and  animation, 
and  addressed  the  two  officers  as  follows: 

"I  have  chosen  my  men  like  Joshua  in  the  Bible,"  said 


80  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

Mr.  Morris,  "and  I  now  believe  I  have  the  pick  of  Lon- 
don. Your  appearance  pleased  my  hansom  cabmen;  then 
it  delighted  me;  I  have  watched  your  behavior  in  a  strange 
company,  and  under  the  most  unusual  circumstances:  I 
have  studied  how  you  played  and  how  you  bore  your 
losses;  lastly,  I  have  put  you  to  the  test  of  a  staggering 
announcement,  and  you  received  it  like  an  invitation  to 
dinner.  It  is  not  for  nothing, "  he  cried,  "that  I  have 
been  for  years  the  companion  and  the  pupil  of  the  bravest 
and  wisest  potentate  in  Europe. ' ' 

"At  the  affair  of  Bunderchang, "  observed  the  Major, 
"I  asked  for  twelve  volunteers,  and  every  trooper  in  the 
ranks  replied  to  my  appeal.  But  a  gaming  party  is  not 
the  same  thing  as  a  regiment  under  fire.  You  may  be 
pleased,  I  suppose,  to  have  found  two,  and  two  who  will 
not  fail  you  at  a  push.  As  for  the  pair  who  ran  away,  I 
count  them  among  the  most  pitiful  hounds  I  ever  met 
with.  Lieutenant  Rich,"  he  added,  addressing  Bracken- 
bury,  "I  have  heard  much  of  you  of  late;  and  I  cannot 
doubt  but  you  have  also  heard  of  me.  I  am  Major 
O'Rooke." 

And  the  veteran  tendered  his  hand,  which  was  red  and 
tremulous,  to  the  young  Lieutenant. 

"Who  has  not?"  answered  Brackenbury. 

"When  this  little  matter  is  settled,"  said  Mr.  Morris, 
"you  will  think  I  have  sufficiently  rewarded  you;  for  I 
could  offer  neither  a  more  valuable  service  than  to  make 
him  acquainted  with  the  other. ' ' 

"And  now,"  said  Major  O'Rooke,  "is  it  a  duel?" 

"A  duel  after  a  fashion,"  replied  Mr.  Morris,  "a  duel 
with  unknown  and  dangerous  enemies,  and,  as  I  gravely 
fear,  a  duel  to  the  death.  I  must  ask  you,"  he  continued, 
"to  call  me  Morris  no  longer;  call  me,  if  you  please, 
Hammersmith;  my  real  name,  as  well  as  that  of  another 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  81 

person  to  whom  I  hope  to  present  you  before  long,  you 
will  gratify  me  by  not  asking  and  not  seeking  to  discover 
for  yourselves.  Three  days  ago  the  person  of  whom  I 
speak  disappeared  suddenly  from  home;  and,  until  this 
morning,  I  received  no  hint  of  his  situation.  You  will 
fancy  my  alarm  when  I  tell  you  that  he  is  engaged  upon 
a  work  of  private  justice.  Bound  by  an  unhappy  oath, 
too  lightly  sworn,  he  finds  it  necessary,  without  the  help 
of  law,  to  rid  the  earth  of  an  insidious  and  bloody  villain. 
Already  two  of  our  friends,  and  one  of  them  my  own  born 
brother,  have  perished  in  the  enterprise.  He  himself,  or 
I  am]  much  deceived,  is  taken  in  the  same  fatal  toils. 
But  at  least  he  still  lives  and  still  hopes,  as  this  billet 
sufficiently  proves. ' ' 

And  the  speaker,  no  other  than  Colonel  Geraldine, 
proffered  a  letter,  thus  conceived : 

"Major  Hammersmith: — On  Wednesday,  at  3  A.  M., 
you  will  be  admitted  by  the  small  door  to  the  gardens  of 
Rochester  House,  Regent's  Park,  by  a  man  who  is  entirely 
in  my  interest.  I  must  request  you  not  to  fail  me  by  a 
second.  Pray  bring  my  case  of  swords,  and,  if  you  can 
find  them,  one  or  two  gentlemen  of  conduct  and  discre- 
tion to  whom  my  person  is  unknown.  My  name  must  not 
be  used  in  this  affair. 

"T.  GODALL." 

"From  his  wisdom  alone,  if  he  had  no  other  title," 
pursued  Colonel  Geraldine,  when  the  others  had  each  sat- 
isfied his  curiosity,  "my  friend  is  a  man  whose  directions 
should  implicitly  be  followed.  I  need  not  tell  you,  there- 
fore, that  I  have  not  so  much  as  visited  the  neighborhood 
of  Rochester  House;  and  that  I  am  still  as  wholly  in  the 
dark  as  either  of  yourselves  as  to  the  nature  of  my  friend's 
dilemma.  I  betook  myself,  as  soon  as  I  had  received  this 
order,  to  a  furnishing  contractor,  and,  in  a  few  hours, 


82  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

the  house  in  which  we  now  are  had  assumed  its  late  air  of 
festival.  My  scheme  was  at  least  original;  and  I  am  far 
from  regretting  an  action  which  has  procured  me  the 
services  of  Major  O'Rooke  and  Lieutenant  Brackenbury 
Rich.  But  the  servants  in  the  street  will  have  a  strange 
awakening.  The  house  which  this  evening  was  full  of 
lights  and  visitors  they  will  find  uninhabited  and  for  sale 
to-morrow  morning.  Thus  even  the  most  serious  con- 
cerns," added  the  Colonel,  "have  a  merry  side." 

"And  let  us  add  a  merry  ending,"  said  Brackenbury. 

The  Colonel  consulted  his  watch. 

"It  is  now  hard  on  two,"  he  said.  "We  have  an  hour 
before  us,  and  a  swift  cab  is  at  the  door.  Tell  me  if  I 
may  count  upon  your  help. ' ' 

"During  along  life,"  replied  Major  O'Rooke,  "I  never 
took  back  my  hand  from  anything,  nor  so  much  as  hedged 
abet." 

Brackenbury  signified  his  readiness  in  the  most  becom- 
ing terms;  and  after  they  had  drunk  a  glass  or  two  of 
wine,  the  Colonel  gave  each  of  them  a  loaded  revolver, 
and  the  three  mounted  into  the  cab  and  drove  off  for  the 
address  in  question. 

Rochester  House  was  a  magnificent  residence  on  the 
banks  of  the  canal.  The  large  extent  of  the  garden  isolated 
it  in  an  unusual  degree  from  the  annoyances  of  neighbor- 
hood. It  seemed  the  pare  aux  cerfs  of  some  great  noble- 
man or  millionaire.  As  far  as  could  be  seen  from  the 
street,  there  was  not  a  glimmer  of  light  in  any  of  the 
numerous  windows  of  the  mansion;  and  the  place  had  a 
look  of  neglect,  as  though  the  master  had  been  long  from 
home. 

The  cab  was  discharged,  and  the  three  gentlemen  were 
not  long  in  discovering  the  small  door,  which  was  a  sort 
of  postern  in  a  lane  between  two  garden  walls.  It  still 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  83 

wanted  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  of  the  appointed  time;  the 
rain  fell  heavily,  and  the  adventurers  sheltered  themselves 
below  some  pendent  ivy,  and  spoke  in  low  tones  of  the 
approaching  trial. 

Suddenly  Geraldine  raised  his  finger  to  command  si- 
lence, and  all  three  bent  their  hearing  to  the  utmost. 
Through  the  continuous  noise  of  the  rain,  the  steps  and 
voices  of  two  men  became  audible  from  the  other  side  of 
the  wall;  and,  as  they  drew  nearer,  Brackenbury,  whose 
sense  of  hearing  was  remarkably  acute,  could  even  dis- 
tinguish some  fragments  of  their  talk. 

"Is  the  grave  dug?"  asked  one. 

"It  is,"  replied  the  other;  "behind  the  laurel  hedge. 
When  the  job  is  done,  we  can  cover  it  with  a  pile  of 
stakes. ' ' 

The  first  speaker  laughed,  and  the  sound  of  his  merri- 
ment was  shocking  to  the  listeners  on  the  other  side. 

"In  an  hour  from  now,"  he  said. 

And  by  the  sound  of  the  steps  it  was  obvious  that  the 
pair  had  separated,  and  were  proceeding  in  contrary 
directions. 

Almost  immediately  after  the  postern  door  was  cau- 
tiously opened,  a  white  face  was  protruded  into  the  lane, 
and  a  hand  was  seen  beckoning  to  the  watchers.  In  dead 
silence  the  three  passed  the  door,  which  was  immediately 
locked  behind  them,  and  followed  their  guide  through 
several  garden  alleys  to  the  kitchen  entrance  of  the  house. 
A  single  candle  burned  in  the  great  paved  kitchen,  which 
was  destitute  of  the  customary  furniture;  and  as  the  party 
proceeded  to  ascend  from  thence  by  a  flight  of  winding 
stairs,  a  prodigious  noise  of  rats  testified  still  more 
plainly  to  the  dilapidation  of  the  house. 

Their  conductor  preceded  them,  carrying  the  candle. 
He  was  a  lean  man,  much  bent,  but  still  agile;  and  he 


84  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

turned  from  time  to  time  and  admonished  silence  and 
caution  by  his  gestures.  Colonel  Geraldine  followed  on 
his  heels,  the  case  of  swords  under  one  arm,  and  a  pistol 
ready  in  the  other.  Brackenbury's  heart  beat  thickly. 
He  perceived  that  they  were  still  in  time;  but  he  judged 
from  the  alacrity  of  the  old  man  that  the  hour  of  action 
must  be  near  at  hand;  the  circumstances  of  this  adventure 
were  so  obscure  and  menacing,  the  place  seemed  so  well 
chosen  for  the  darkest  acts,  that  an  older  man  than  Brack- 
enbury  might  have  been  pardoned  a  measure  of  emotion 
as  he  closed  the  procession  up  the  winding  stair. 

At  the  top  the  guide  threw  open  a  door  and  ushered  the 
three  officers  before  him  into  a  small  apartment,  lighted 
by  a  smoky  lamp  and  the  glow  of  a  modest  fire.  At  the 
chimney  corner  sat  a  man  in  the  early  prime  of  life,  and 
of  a  stout  but  courtly  and  commanding  appearance.  His 
attitude  and  expression  were  those  of  the  most  unmoved 
composure;  he  was  smoking  a  cheroot  with  much  enjoy- 
ment and  deliberation,  and  on  a  table  by  his  elbow  stood 
a  long  glass  of  some  effervescing  beverage  which  diffused 
an  agreeable  odor  through  the  room. 

"Welcome,"  said  he,  extending  his  hand  to  Colonel 
Geraldine.  "I  knew  I  might  count  on  your  exactitude." 

"On  my  devotion,"  replied  the  Colonel,  with  a  bow. 

"Present  me  to  your  friends, "  continued  the  first;  and, 
when  that  ceremony  had  been  performed,  "I  wish,  gentle- 
men," he  added,  with  the  most  exquisite  affability,  "that 
I  could  offer  you  a  more  cheerful  programme;  it  is  un- 
gracious to  inaugurate  an  acquaintance  upon  serious 
affairs;  but  the  compulsion  of  events  is  stronger  than  the 
obligations  of  good-fellowship.  I  hope  and  believe  you 
will  be  able  to  forgive  me  this  unpleasant  evening;  and 
for  men  of  your  stamp  it  will  be  enough  to  know  that  you 
are  conferring  a  considerable  favor." 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  85 

"Your  Highness,"  said  the  Major,  "must  pardon  my 
bluntness.  I  am  unable  to  hide  what  I  know.  For  some 
time  back  I  have  suspected  Major  Hammersmith,  but 
Mr.  Godall  is  unmistakable.  To  seek  two  men  in  London 
unacquainted  with  Prince  Florizel  of  Bohemia  was  to 
ask  too  much  at  Fortune's  hands." 

"Prince  Florizel!"  cried  Brackenbury  in  amazement. 

And  he  gazed  with  the  deepest  interest  on  the  features 
of  the  celebrated  personage  before  him. 

"I  shall  not  lament  the  loss  of  my  incognito, "  remarked 
the  Prince,  "for  it  enables  me  to  thank  you  with  the 
more  authority.  You  would  have  done  as  much  for  Mr. 
Godall,  I  feel  sure,  as  for  the  Prince  of  Bohemia;  but  the 
latter  can  perhaps  do  more  for  you.  The  gain  is  mine, ' ' 
he  added,  with  a  courteous  gesture. 

And  the  next  moment  he  was  conversing  with  the  two 
officers  about  the  Indian  army  and  the  native  troops,  a 
subject  on  which,  as  on  all  others,  he  had  a  remarkable 
fund  of  information  and  the  soundest  views. 

There  was  something  so  striking  in  this  man's  attitude 
at  a  moment  of  deadly  peril  that  Brackenbury  was  over- 
come with  respectful  admiration;  nor  was  he  less  sensible 
to  the  charm  of  his  conversation  or  the  surprising  amenity 
of  his  address.  Every  gesture,  every  intonation,  was  not 
only  noble  in  itself,  but  seemed  to  ennoble  the  fortunate 
mortal  for  whom  it  was  intended;  and  Brackenbury  con- 
fessed to  himself  with  enthusiasm  that  this  was  a  sovereign 
for  whom  a  brave  man  might  thankfully  lay  down  his  life. 

Many  minutes  had  thus  passed,  when  the  person  who 
had  introduced  them  into  the  house,  and  who  had  sat  ever 
since  in  a  corner,  and  with  his  watch  in  his  hand,  arose 
and  whispered  a  word  into  the  Prince's  ear. 

"It  is  well,  Dr.  Noel,"  replied  Florizel,  aloud;  and 
then  addressing  the  others,  "You  will  excuse  me,  gentle- 


86  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

men,"  he  added,  "if  I  have  to  leave  you  in  the  dark.  The 
moment  now  approaches. ' ' 

Dr.  Noel  extinguished  the  lamp.  A  faint,  gray  light, 
premonitory  of  the  dawn,  illuminated  the  window,  but 
was  not  sufficient  to  illuminate  the  room ;  and  when  the 
Prince  rose  to  his  feet,  it  was  impossible  to  distinguish 
his  features  or  to  make  a  guess  at  the  nature  of  the  emo- 
tion which  obviously  affected  him  as  he  spoke.  He  moved 
towards  the  door,  and  placed  himself  at  one  side  of  it  in 
an  attitude  of  the  wariest  attention^ 

"You  will  have  the  kindness,"  he  said,  "to  maintain 
the  strictest  silence,  and  to  conceal  yourselves  in  the 
densest  of  the  shadow. ' ' 

The  three  officers  and  the  physician  hastened  to  obey, 
and  for  nearly  ten  minutes  the  only  sound  in  Rochester 
House  was  occasioned  by  the  excursions  of  the  rats  behind 
the  woodwork.  At  the  end  of  that  period,  a  loud  creak  of 
a  hinge  broke  in  with  surprising  distinctness  on  the 
silence;  and  shortly  after,  the  watchers  could  distinguish 
a  slow  and  cautious  tread  approaching  up  the  kitchen 
stair.  At  every  second  step  the  intruder  seemed  to  pause 
and  lend  an  ear,  and  during  these  intervals,  which  seemed 
of  an  incalculable  duration,  a  profound  disquiet  possessed 
the  spirit  of  the  listeners.  Dr.  Noel,  accustomed  as  he 
was  to  dangerous  emotions,  suffered  an  almost  pitiful 
physical  prostration;  his  breath  whistled  in  his  lungs,  his 
teeth  grated  one  upon  another,  and  his  joints  cracked 
aloud  as  he  nervously  shifted  his  position. 

At  last  a  hand  was  laid  upon  the  door,  and  the  bolt  shot 
back  with  a  slight  report.  There  followed  another  pause, 
during  which  Brackenbury  could  see  the  Prince  draw 
himself  together  noiselessly  as  if  for  some  unusual  exer- 
tion. Then  the  door  opened,  letting  in  a  little  more  of 
the  light  of  the  morning;  and  the  figure  of  a  man  ap- 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  87 

peared  upon  the  threshold  and  stood  motionless.  He  was 
tall,  and  carried  a  knife  in  his  hand.  Even  in  the  twilight 
they  could  see  his  upper  teeth  bare  and  glistening,  for  his 
mouth  was  open  like  that  of  a  hound  about  to  leap.  The 
man  had  evidently  been  over  the  head  in  water  but  a 
minute  or  two  before;  and  even  while  he  stood  there  the 
drops  kept  falling  from  his  wet  clothes  and  pattered  on 
the  floor. 

The  next  moment  he  crossed  the  threshold.  There  was 
a  leap,  a  stifled  cry,  an  instantaneous  struggle;  and  before 
Colonel  Geraldine  could  spring  to  his  aid,  the  Prince  held 
the  man,  disarmed  and  helpless,  by  the  shoulders. 

"Dr.  Noel,"  he  said,  "you  will  be  so  good  as  to  relight 
the  lamp." 

And  relinquishing  the  charge  of  his  prisoner  to  Geral- 
dine and  Blackenbury,  he  crossed  the  room  and  set  his 
back  against  the  chimney-piece.  As  soon  as  the  lamp 
had  kindled,  the  party  beheld  an  unaccustomed  sternness 
on  the  Prince's  features.  It  was  no  longer  Florizel,  the 
careless  gentleman;  it  was  the  Prince  of  Bohemia,  justly 
incensed  and  full  of  deadly  purpose,  who  now  raised  his 
head  and  addressed  the  captive  President  of  the  Suicide 
Club. 

"President,"  he  said,  "you  have  laid  your  last  snare, 
and  your  own  feet  are  taken  in  it.  The  day  is  beginning; 
it  is  your  last  morning.  You  have  just  swum  the  Regent's 
Canal;  it  is  your  last  bathe  in  this  world.  Your  old  ac- 
complice, Dr.  Noel,  so  far  from  betraying  me,  has  deliv- 
ered you  into  my  hands  for  judgment.  And  the  grave  you 
had  dug  for  me  this  afternoon  shall  serve,  in  God's  al- 
mighty providence,  to  hide  your  own  just  doom  from  the 
curiosity  of  mankind.  Kneel  and  pray,  sir,  if  you  have  a 
mind  that  way;  for  your  time  is  short,  and  God  is  weary 
of  your  iniquities. ' ' 


88  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

The  President  made  no  answer  either  by  word  or  sign; 
but  continued  to  hang  his  head  and  gaze  sullenly  on  the 
floor,  as  though  he  were  conscious  of  the  Prince's  pro- 
longed and  unsparing  regard. 

"Gentlemen,"  continued  Florizel,  resuming  the  ordi- 
nary tone  of  his  conversation,  "this  is  a  fellow  who  has 
long  eluded  me,  but  whom,  thanks  to  Dr.  Noel,  I  now 
have  tightly  by  the  heels.  To  tell  the  story  of  his  misdeeds 
would  occupy  more  time  than  we  can  now  afford ;  but  if 
the  canal  had  contained  nothing  but  the  blood  of  his  vic- 
tims, I  believe  the  wretch  would  have  been  no  drier  than 
you  see  him.  Even  in  an  affair  of  this  sort  I  desire  to 
preserve  the  forms  of  honor.  But  I  make  you  the  judges, 
gentlemen — this  is  more  an  execution  than  a  duel;  and  to 
give  the  rogue  his  choice  of  weapons  would  be  to  push 
too  far  a  point  of  etiquette.  I  cannot  afford  to  lose  my 
life  in  such  a  business,"  he  continued,  unlocking  the  case 
of  swords;  "and  as  a  pistol -bullet  travels  so  often  on  the 
wings  of  chance,  and  skill  and  courage  may  fall  by  the 
most  trembling  marksman,  I  have  decided,  and  I  feel 
sure  you  will  approve  my  determination,  to  put  this 
question  to  the  touch  of  swords." 

When  Brackenbury  and  Major  O'Rooke,  to  whom  these 
remarks  were  particularly  addressed,  had  each  intimated 
his  approval,  "Quick,  sir,"  added  Prince  Florizel  to  the 
President,  "choose  a  blade  and  do  not  keep  me  wait- 
ing; I  have  an  impatience  to  be  done  with  you  for 
ever. ' ' 

For  the  first  time  since  he  was  captured  and  disarmed 
the  President  raised  his  head,  and  it  was  plain  that  he 
began  instantly  to  pluck  up  courage. 

"Is  it  to  be  stand  up?"  he  asked  eagerly,  "and  between 
you  and  me?" 

"I  mean  so  far  to  honor  you,"  replied  the  Prince. 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  89 

"Oh,  come!"  cried  the  President.  "With  a  fair  field, 
who  knows  how  things  may  happen?  I  must  add  that  I 
consider  it  handsome  behavior  on  your  Highness's  part; 
and  if  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst  I  shall  die  by  one  of 
the  most  gallant  gentlemen  in  Europe. ' ' 

And  the  President,  liberated  by  those  who  had  detained 
him,  stepped  up  to  the  table  and  began,  with  minute  atten- 
tion, to  select  a  sword.  He  was  highly  elated,  and  seemed 
to  feel  no  doubt  that  he  should  issue  victorious  from  the 
contest.  The  spectators  grew  alarmed  in  the  face  of  so 
entire  a  confidence,  and  adjured  Prince  Florizel  to  recon- 
sider his  intention. 

"It  is  but  a  farce,"  he  answered;  "and  I  think  I  can 
promise  you,  gentlemen,  that  it  will  not  be  long  a-play- 
ing." 

"Your  Highness  will  be  careful  not  to  overreach,"  said 
Colonel  Geraldine. 

"Geraldine,"  returned  the  Prince,  "did  you  ever  know 
me  fail  in  a  debt  of  honor?  I  owe  you  this  man's  death, 
and  you  shall  have  it." 

The  President  at  last  satisfied  himself  with  one  of  the 
rapiers,  and  signified  his  readiness  by  a  gesture  that  was 
not  devoid  of  a  rude  nobility.  The  nearness  of  peril,  and 
the  sense  of  courage,  even  to  this  obnoxious  villain,  lent 
an  air  of  manhood  and  a  certain  grace. 

The  Prince  helped  himself  at  random  to  a  sword. 

"Colonel  Geraldine  and  Doctor  Noel,"  he  said,  "will 
have  the  goodness  to  await  me  in  this  room.  I  wish  no 
personal  friend  of  mine  to  be  involved  in  this  transaction. 
Major  O'Rooke,  you  are  a  man  of  some  years  and  a  settled 
reputation — let  me  recommend  the  President  to  your  good 
graces.  Lieutenant  Rich  will  be  so  good  as  to  lend  me 
his  attentions:  a  young  man  cannot  have  too  much  expe- 
rience in  such  affairs." 


90  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"Your  Highness, "  replied  Brackenbury,  "it  is  an  honor 
I  shall  prize  extremely. ' ' 

"It  is  well,"  returned  Prince  Florizel;  "I  shall  hope  to 
stand  your  friend  in  more  important  circumstances." 

And  so  saying  he  led  the  way  out  of  the  apartment  and 
down  the  kitchen  stairs. 

The  two  men  who  were  thus  left  alone  threw  open  the 
window  and  leaned  out,  straining  every  sense  to  catch  an 
indication  of  the  tragical  events  that  were  about  to  fol- 
low. The  rain  was  now  over;  day  had  almost  come,  and 
the  birds  were  piping  in  the  shrubbery  and  on  the  forest 
trees  of  the  garden.  The  Prince  and  his  companions  were 
visible  for  a  moment  as  they  followed  an  alley  between 
two  flowering  thickets;  but  at  the  first  corner  a  clump  of 
foliage  intervened,  and  they  were  again  concealed  from 
view.  This  was  all  that  the  Colonel  and  the  physician  had 
an  opportunity  to  see,  and  the  garden  was  so  vast,  and 
the  place  of  combat  evidently  so  remote  from  the  house, 
that  not  even  the  noise  of  sword  play  reached  their  ears. 

"He  has  taken  him  towards  the  grave,"  said  Dr.  Noel, 
with  a  shudder. 

"God,"  cried  the  Colonel,  "God  defend  the  right!" 

And  they  awaited  the  event  in  silence,  the  Doctor  shak- 
ing with  fear,  the  Colonel  in  an  agony  of  sweat.  Many 
minutes  must  have  elapsed,  the  day  was  sensibly  broader, 
and  the  birds  were  singing  more  heartily  in  the  garden 
before  a  sound  of  returning  footsteps  recalled  their  glances 
towards  the  door.  It  was  the  Prince  and  the  two  Indian 
officers  who  entered.  God  had  defended  the  right. 

"I  am  ashamed  of  my  emotion,"  said  Prince  Florizel; 
"I  feel  it  a  weakness  unworthy  of  my  station,  but  the 
continued  existence  of  that  hound  of  hell  had  begun  to 
play  upon  me  like  a  disease,  and  his  death  has  more  re- 
freshed me  than  a  night  of  slumber.  Look,  Geraldine, ' ' 


THE  SUICIDE  CLUB  91 

he  continued,  throwing  his  sword  upon  the  floor,  "there 
is  the  blood  of  the  man  who  killed  your  brother.  It 
should  be  a  welcome  sight.  And  yet,"  he  added,  "see 
how  strangely  we  men  are  made !  my  revenge  is  not  yet 
five  minutes  old,  and  already  I  am  beginning  to  ask  my- 
self if  even  revenge  be  attainable  on  this  precarious  stage 
of  life.  The  ill  he  did,  who  can  undo  it?  The  career  in 
which  he  amassed  a  huge  fortune  (for  the  house  itself 
in  which  he  staid  belonged  to  him) — that  career  is  now 
a  part  of  the  destiny  of  mankind  forever;  and  I  might 
weary  myself  making  thrusts  in  carte  until  the  crack  of 
judgment,  and  Geraldine's  brother  would  be  none  the  less 
dead,  and  a  thousand  other  innocent  persons  would  be 
none  the  less  dishonored  and  debauched!  The  existence 
of  a  man  is  so  small  a  thing  to  take,  so  mighty  a  thing 
to  employ!  Alas!"  he  cried,  "is  there  anything  in  life 
so  disenchanting  as  attainment?" 

"God's  justice  has  been  done,"  replied  the  Doctor. 
"So  much  I  behold.  The  lesson,  your  Highness,  has  been 
a  cruel  one  for  me;  and  I  await  my  own  turn  with  deadly 
apprehension." 

"What  was  I  saying?"  cried  the  Prince.  "I  have  pun- 
ished, and  here  is  the  man  beside  us  who  can  help  me  to 
undo.  Ah,  Dr.  Noel!  you  and  I  have  before  us  many  a 
day  of  hard  and  honorable  toil;  and  perhaps,  before  we 
have  done,  you  may  have  more  than  redeemed  your  early 
errors. * ' 

"And  in  the  meantime,"  said  the  Doctor,  "let  me  go 
and  bury  my  oldest  friend." 

(And  this,  observes  the  erudite  Arabian,  is  the  for- 
tunate, conclusion  of  the  tale.  The  Prince,  it  is  superflu- 
ous to  mention,  forgot  none  of  those  who  served  him  in  tfiis 
great  exploit;  and  to  this  day  his  authority  and  influence 
help  them  forward  in  their  public  career,  while  his  con- 


92  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

descending  friendship  adds  a  charm  to  their  private  life, 
To  collect,  continues  the  author,  all  the  strange  events  in 
which  this  Prince  has  played  the  part  of  Providence  were 
to  Jill  the  habitable  globe  with  books.  But  the  stories  which 
relate  to  the  fortunes  of  THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  are  of 
too  entertaining  a  description,  says  he,  to  be  omitted. 
Following  prudently  in  the  footsteps  of  this  Oriental,  we 
shall  now  begin  the  series  to  which  he  refers  with  the 
STORY  OF  THE  BANDBOX.) 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND 

STORY  OF  THE  BANDBOX 

UP  to  the  age  of  sixteen,  at  a  private  school  and  after- 
wards at  one  of  those  great  institutions  for  which  England 
is  justly  famous,  Mr.  Harry  Hartley  had  received  the 
ordinary  education  of  a  gentleman.  At  that  period,  he 
manifested  a  remarkable  distaste  for  study;  and  his  only 
surviving  parent  being  both  weak  and  ignorant,  he  was 
permitted  thenceforward  to  spend  his  time  in  the  attain- 
ment of  petty  and  purely  elegant  accomplishments.  Two 
years  later,  he  was  left  an  orphan  and  almost  a  beggar. 
For  all  active  and  industrious  pursuits,  Harry  was  unfitted 
alike  by  nature  and  training.  He  could  sing  romantic 
ditties,  and  accompany  himself  with  discretion  on  the 
piano;  he  was  a  graceful  although  a  timid  cavalier;  he 
had  a  pronounced  taste  for  chess;  and  nature  had  sent  him 
into  the  world  with  one  of  the  most  engaging  exteriors 
that  can  well  be  fancied.  Blond  and  pink,  with  dove's 
eyes  and  a  gentle  smile,  he  had  an  air  of  agreeable  ten- 
derness and  melancholy,  and  the  most  submissive  and 
caressing  manners.  But  when  all  is  said,  he  was  not  the 
man  to  lead  armaments  of  war,  or  direct  the  councils  of 
a  State. 

A  fortunate  chance  and  some  influence  obtained  for 
Harry,  at  the  time  of  his  bereavement,  the  position  of 
private  secretary  to  Major-General  Sir  Thomas  Vande- 
leur,  C.B.  Sir  Thomas  was  a  man  of  sixty,  loud-spoken, 
boisterous,  and  domineering.  For  some  reason,  some  serv- 


94  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

ice  the  nature  of  which  had  been  often  whispered  and  re- 
peatedly denied,  the  Rajah  of  Kashgar  had  presented  this 
officer  with  the  sixth  known  diamond  of  the  world.  The 
gift  transformed  General  Vandeleur  from  a  poor  into  a 
wealthy  man,  from  an  obscure  and  unpopular  soldier  into 
one  of  the  lions  of  London  society;  the  possessor  of  the 
Rajah's  Diamond  was  welcome  in  the  most  exclusive 
circles;  and  he  had  found  a  lady,  young,  beautiful,  and 
well-born,  who  was  willing  to  call  the  diamond  hers  even 
at  the  price  of  marriage  with  Sir  Thomas  Vandeleur.  It 
was  commonly  said  at  the  time  that,  as  like  draws  to  like, 
one  jewel  had  attracted  another;  certainly  Lady  Vandeleur 
was  not  only  a  gem  of  the  finest  water  in  her  own  person, 
but  she  showed  herself  to  the  world  in  a  very  costly  set- 
ting; and  she  was  considered  by  many  respectable  author- 
ities, as  one  among  the  three  or  four  best  dressed  women 
in  England. 

Harry's  duty  as  secretary  was  not  particularly  onerous; 
but  he  had  a  dislike  for  all  prolonged  work;  it  gave  him 
pain  to  ink  his  fingers;  and  the  charms  of  Lady  Vandeleur 
and  her  toilettes  drew  him  often  from  the  library  to  the 
boudoir.  He  had  the  prettiest  ways  among  women,  could 
talk  fashions  with  enjoyment,  and  was  never  more  happy 
than  when  criticising  a  shade  of  ribbon,  or  running  on  an 
errand  to  the  milliner's.  In  short,  Sir  Thomas's  corre- 
spondence fell  into  pitiful  arrears,  and  my  Lady  had 
another  lady's  maid. 

At  last  the  General,  who  was  one  of  the  least  patient  of 
military  commanders,  arose  from  his  place  in  a  violent 
excess  of  passion,  and  indicated  to  his  secretary  that  he 
had  no  further  use  for  his  services,  with  one  of  those 
explanatory  gestures  which  are  most  rarely  employed  be- 
tween gentlemen.  The  door  being  unfortunately  open, 
Mr.  Hartley  fell  down-stairs  head  foremost. 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  95 

He  arose  somewhat  hurt  and  very  deeply  aggrieved. 
The  life  in  the  General's  house  precisely  suited  him;  he 
moved,  on  a  more  or  less  doubtful  footing,  in  very  gen- 
teel company,  he  did  little,  he  ate  of  the  best,  and  he  had 
a  lukewarm  satisfaction  in  the  presence  of  Lady  Van- 
deleur,  which,  in  his  own  heart,  he  dubbed  by  a  more 
emphatic  name. 

Immediately  after  he  had  been  outraged  by  the  military 
foot,  he  hurried  to  the  boudoir  and  recounted  his  sorrows. 

"You  know  very  well,  my  dear  Harry,"  replied  Lady 
Vandeleur,  for  she  called  him  by  name  like  a  child  or  a 
domestic  servant,  "that  you  never  by  any  chance  do  what 
the  General  tells  you.  No  more  do  I,  you  may  say.  But 
that  is  different.  A  woman  can  earn  her  pardon  for  a 
good  year  of  disobedience  by  a  single  adroit  submission; 
and,  besides,  no  one  is  married  to  his  private  secretary. 
I  shall  be  sorry  to  lose  you,  but  since  you  cannot  stay 
longer  in  a  house  where  you  have  been  insulted,  I  shall 
wish  you  good-bye,  and  I  promise  you  to  make  the  General 
smart  for  his  behavior." 

Harry's  countenance  fell;  tears  came  into  his  eyes,  and 
he  gazed  on  Lady  Vandeleur  with  a  tender  reproach. 

"My  Lady,"  said  he,  "what  is  an  insult?  I  should 
think  little  indeed  of  anyone  who  could  not  forgive  them 
by  the  score.  But  to  leave  one's  friends;  to  tear  up  the 
bonds  of  affection ' 

He  was  unable  to  continue,  for  his  emotion  choked 
him,  and  he  began  to  weep. 

Lady  Vandeleur  looked  at  him  with  a  curious  expres- 
sion. 

"This  little  fool,"  she  thought,  "imagines  himself  to 
be  in  love  with  me.  Why  should  he  not  become  my 
servant  instead  of  the  General's?  He  is  good-natured, 
obliging,  and  understands  dress;  and  besides  it  will  keep 


96  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

him  out  of  mischief.  He  is  positively  too  pretty  to  be 
unattached." 

That  night  she  talked  over  the  General,  who  was  already 
somewhat  ashamed  of  his  vivacity;  and  Harry  was  trans- 
ferred to  the  feminine  department,  where  his  life  was 
little  short  of  heavenly.  He  was  always  dressed  with  un- 
common nicety,  wore  delicate  flowers  in  his  buttonhole, 
and  could  entertain  a  visitor  with  tact  and  pleasantry. 
He  took  a  pride  in  servility  to  a  beautiful  woman;  received 
Lady  Vandeleur's  commands  as  so  many  marks  of  favor; 
and  was  pleased  to  exhibit  himself  before  other  men,  who 
derided  and  despised  him,  in  his  character  of  male  lady's- 
maid  and  man  milliner.  Nor  could  he  think  enough  of 
his  existence  from  a  moral  point  of  view.  Wickedness 
seemed  to  him  an  essentially  male  attribute,  and  to  pass 
one's  days  with  a  delicate  woman,  and  principally  occupied 
about  trimmings,  was  to  inhabit  an  enchanted  isle  among 
the  storms  of  life. 

One  fine  morning  he  came  into  the  drawing-room  and 
began  to  arrange  some  music  on  the  top  of  the  piano. 
Lady  Vandeleur,  at  the  other  end  of  the  apartment,  was 
speaking  somewhat  eagerly  with  her  brother,  Charlie 
Pendragon,  an  elderly  young ,  man,  much  broken  with 
dissipation,  and  very  lame  of  one  foot.  The  private 
secretary,  to  whose  entrance  they  paid  no  regard,  could 
not  avoid  overhearing  a  part  of  their  conversation. 

" To-day  or  never,"  said  the  lady.  "Once  and  for  all, 
it  shall  be  done  to-day." 

"To-day,  if  it  must  be,"  replied  the  brother,  with  a 
sigh.  "But  it  is  a  false  step,  a  ruinous  step,  Clara;  and 
we  shall  live  to  repent  it  dismally." 

Lady  Vandeleur  looked  her  brother  steadily  and  some- 
what strangely  in  the  face. 

"You  forget,"  she  said;  "the  man  must  die  at  last." 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMON»  97 

"Upon  my  word,  Clara,"  said  Pendragon,  "I  believe 
you  are  the  most  heartless  rascal  in  England." 

"You  men,"  she  returned,  "are  so  coarsely  built,  that 
you  can  never  appreciate  a  shade  of  meaning.  You  are 
yourselves  rapacious,  violent,  immodest,  careless  of  dis- 
tinction; and  yet  the  least  thought  for  the  future  shocks 
you  in  a  woman.  I  have  no  patience  with  such  stuff. 
You  would  despise  in  a  common  banker  the  imbecility 
that  you  expect  to  find  in  us. " 

"You  are  very  likely  right,"  replied  her  brother;  "you 
were  always  cleverer  than  I.  And,  anyway,  you  know  my 
motto;  the  family  before  all." 

"Yes,  Charlie,"  she  returned,  taking  his  hand  in  hers, 
"I  know  your  motto  better  than  you  know  it  yourself. 
And  'Clara  before  the  family!'  Is  not  that  the  second 
part  of  it?  Indeed,  you  are  the  best  of  brothers,  and  I 
love  you  dearly. ' ' 

Mr.  Pendragon  got  up,  looking  a  little  confused  by 
these  family  endearments. 

"I  had  better  not  be  seen,"  said  he.  "I  understand 
my  part  to  a  miracle,  and  I'll  keep  an  eye  on  the  Tame 
Cat." 

"Do,"  she  replied.  "He  is  an  abject  creature,  and 
might  ruin  all." 

She  kisaed  the  tips  of  her  fingers  to  him  daintily;  and 
the  brother  withdrew  by  the  boudoir  and  the  back  stair. 

"Harry,"  said  Lady  Vandeleur,  turning  towards  the 
secretary  as  soon  as  they  were  alone.  "I  have  a  commis- 
sion for  you  this  morning.  But  you  shall  take  a  cab;  I 
cannot  have  my  secretary  freckled." 

She  spoke  the  last  words  with  emphasis  and  a  look  of 
half-motherly  pride  that  caused  great  contentment  to 
poor  Harry;  and  he  professed  himself  charmed  to  find  an 
opportunity  of  serving  her. 


98  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"It  is  another  of  our  great  secrets,"  she  went  on, 
archly,  "and  no  one  must  know  of  it  but  my  secretary 
and  me.  Sir  Thomas  would  make  the  saddest  disturbance; 
and  if  you  only  knew  how  weary  I  am  of  these  scenes ! 
Oh,  Harry,  Harry,  can  you  explain  to  me  what  makes  you 
men  so  violent  and  unjust?  But,  indeed,  I  know  you 
cannot;  you  are  the  only  man  in  the  world  who  knows 
nothing  of  these  shameful  passions;  you  are  so  good, 
Harry,  and  so  kind;  you,  at  least,  can  be  a  woman's 
friend;  and,  do  you  know?  I  think  you  make  the  others 
more  ugly  by  comparison. ' ' 

"It  is  you,"  said  Harry,  gallantly,  "who  are  so  kind  to 
me.  You  treat  me  like ' 

"Like  a  mother,"  interposed  Lady  Vandeleur,  "I  try 
to  be  a  mother  to  you.  Or,  at  least,"  she  corrected  her- 
self with  a  smile,  "almost  a  mother.  I  am  afraid  I  am 
too  young  to  be  your  mother  really.  Let  us  say  a  friend 
— a  dear  friend." 

She  paused  long  enough  to  let  her  words  take  effect  in 
Harry's  sentimental  quarters,  but  not  long  enough  to 
allow  him  a  reply. 

"But  all  this  is  beside  our  purpose,"  she  resumed. 
"You  will  find  a  bandbox  in  the  left-hand  side  of  the  oak 
wardrobe;  it  is  underneath  the  pink  slip  that  I  wore  on 
Wednesday  with  my  Mechlin.  You  will  take  it  immedi- 
ately to  this  address,"  and  she  gave  him  a  paper,  "but 
do  not,  on  any  account,  let  it  out  of  your  hands  until 
you  have  received  a  receipt  written  by  myself.  Do  you 
understand?  Answer,  if  you  please — answer!  This  is 
extremely  important,  and  I  must  ask  you  to  pay  some 
attention. ' ' 

Harry  pacified  her  by  repeating  her  instructions  per- 
fectly; and  she  was  just  going  to  tell  him  more  when 
General  Vandeleur  flung  into  the  apartment,  scarlet  with 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  99 

anger,  and  holding  a  long  and  elaborate  milliner's  bill  in 
his  hand. 

"Will  you  look  at  this,  madam?"  cried  he.  "Will  you 
have  the  goodness  to  look  at  this  document?  I  know  well 
enough  you  married  me  for  my  money,  and  I  hope  I  can 
make  as  great  allowance  as  any  other  man  in  the  service; 
but,  as  sure  as  God  made  me,  I  mean  to  put  a  period  to 
this  disreputable  prodigality." 

"Mr.  Hartley,"  said  Lady  Vandeleur,  "I  think  you  un- 
derstand what  you  have  to  do.  May  I  ask  you  to  see  to  it 
at  once?" 

"Stop,"  said  the  General,  addressing  Harry,  "one  word 
before  you  go."  And  then,  turning  again  to  Lady  Van- 
deleur, "what  is  this  precious  fellow's  errand?"  he  de- 
manded. "I  trust  him  no  further  than  I  do  yourself,  let 
me  tell  you.  If  he  had  as  much  as  the  rudiments  of 
honesty,  he  would  scorn  to  stay  in  this  house;  and  what 
he  does  for  his  wages  is  a  mystery  to  all  the  world.  What 
is  his  errand,  madam?  and  why  are  you  hurrying  him 
away?" 

"I  supposed  you  had  something  to  say  to  me  in  pri- 
vate," replied  the  lady. 

"You  spoke  about  an  errand,"  insisted  the  General. 
"Do  not  attempt  to  deceive  me  in  my  present  state  of 
temper.  You  certainly  spoke  about  an  errand." 

"If  you  insist  on  making  your  servants  privy  to  our 
humiliating  dissensions,"  replied  Lady  Vandeleur,  "per- 
haps I  had  better  ask  Mr.  Hartley  to  sit  down.  No?"  she 
continued;  "then  you  may  go,  Mr.  Hartley.  I  trust  you 
may  remember  all  that  you  have  heard  in  this  room;  it 
may  be  useful  to  you. ' ' 

Harry  at  once  made  his  escape  from  the  drawing-room; 
and  as  he  ran  upstairs  he  could  hear  the  General's  voice 
upraised  in  declamation,  and  the  thin  tones  of  Lady  Van- 


100  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

deleur  planting  icy  repartees  at  every  opening.  How 
cordially  he  admired  the  wife!  How  skilfully  she  could 
evade  an  awkward  question!  with  what  secure  effrontery 
she  repeated  her  instructions  under  the  very  guns  of  the 
enemy!  and  on  the  other  hand,  how  he  detested  the 
husband ! 

There  had  been  nothing  unfamiliar  in  the  morning's 
events,  for  he  was  continually  in  the  habit  of  serving 
Lady  Vandeleur  on  secret  missions,  principally  connected 
with  millinery.  There  was  a  skeleton  in  the  house,  as 
he  well  knew.  The  bottomless  extravagance  and  the  un- 
known liabilities  of  the  wife  had  long  since  swallowed 
her  own  fortune,  and  threatened  day  by  day  to  engulf 
that  of  the  husband.  Once  or  twice  in  every  year  expo- 
sure and  ruin  seemed  imminent,  and  Harry  kept  trotting 
round  to  all  sorts  of  furnishers'  shops,  telling  small  fibs, 
and  paying  small  advances  on  the  gross  amount,  until 
another  term  was  tided  over,  and  the  lady  and  her  faithful 
secretary  breathed  again.  For  Harry,  in  a  double  capac- 
ity, was  heart  and  soul  upon  that  side  of  the  war:  not 
only  did  he  adore  Lady  Vandeleur  and  fear  and  dislike  her 
husband,  but  he  naturally  sympathized  with  the  love  of 
finery,  and  his  own  single  extravagance  was  at  the  tailor's. 

He  found  the  bandbox  where  it  had  been  described, 
arranged  his  toilet  with  care,  and  left  the  house.  The 
sun  shone  brightly;  the  distance  he  had  to  travel  was 
considerable,  and  he  remembered  with  dismay  that  the 
General's  sudden  irruption  had  prevented  Lady  Vandeleur 
from  giving  him  money  for  a  cab.  On  this  sultry  day 
there  was  every  chance  that  his  complexion  would  suffer 
severely;  and  to  walk  through  so  much  of  London  with  a 
bandbox  on  his  arm  was  a  humiliation  almost  insupport- 
able to  a  youth  of  his  character.  He  paused,  and  took 
counsel  with  himself.  The  Vandeleurs  lived  in  Eaton 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  101 

Place;  his  destination  was  near  Netting  Hill;  plainly,  he 
might  cross  the  Park  by  keeping  well  in  the  open  and 
avoiding  populous  alleys;  and  he  thanked  his  stars  when 
he  reflected  that  it  was  still  comparatively  early  in  the 
day. 

Anxious  to  be  rid  of  his  incubus,  he  walked  some- 
what faster  than  his  ordinary,  and  he  was  already  some 
way  through  Kensington  Gardens  when,  in  a  solitary 
spot  among  trees,  he  found  himself  confronted  by  the 
General. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Sir  Thomas,"  observed  Harry, 
politely  falling  on  one  side;  for  the  other  stood  directly 
in  his  path. 

"Where  are  you  going,  sir?"  asked  the  General. 

"I  am  taking  a  little  walk  among  the  trees,"  replied 
the  lad. 

The  General  struck  the  bandbox  with  his  cane. 

"With  that  thing?"  he  cried;  "you  lie,  sir,  and  you 
know  you  lie!" 

"Indeed,  Sir  Thomas,"  returned  Harry,  "I  am  not 
accustomed  to  be  questioned  in  so  high  a  key. ' ' 

"You  do  not  understand  your  position,"  said  the  Gen- 
eral. "You  are  my  servant,  and  a  servant  of  whom  I 
have  conceived  the  most  serious  suspicions.  How  do  I 
know  but  that  your  box  is  full  of  teaspoons?" 

"It  contains  a  silk  hat  belonging  to  a  friend,"  said 
Harry. 

"Very  well,"  replied  General  Vandeleur.  "Then  I 
want  to  see  your  friend's  silk  hat.  I  have,"  he  added, 
grimly,  "a  singular  curiosity  for  hats;  and  I  believe  you 
know  me  to  be  somewhat  positive." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Sir  Thomas,  I  am  exceedingly 
grieved,"  Harry  apologized ;  "but  indeed  this  is  a  private 
affair." 


102  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

The  General  caught  him  roughly  by  the  shoulder  with 
one  hand,  while  he  raised  his  cane  in  the  most  menacing 
manner  with  the  other.  Harry  gave  himself  up  for  lost; 
but  at  the  same  moment  Heaven  vouchsafed  him  an  un- 
expected defender  in  the  person  of  Charlie  Pendragon, 
who  now  strode  forward  from  behind  the  trees. 

"Come,  come,  General,  hold  your  hand,"  said  he,  "this 
is  neither  courteous  nor  manly. ' ' 

"Aha!"  cried  the  General,  wheeling  round  upon  his 
new  antagonist,  "Mr.  Pendragon!  And  do  you  suppose, 
Mr.  Pendragon,  that  because  I  have  had  the  misfortune 
to  marry  your  sister,  I  shall  suffer  myself  to  be  dogged 
and  thwarted  by  a  discredited  and  bankrupt  libertine  like 
you?  My  acquaintance  with  Lady  Vandeleur,  sir,  has 
taken  away  all  my  appetite  for  the  other  members  of  her 
family." 

"And  do  you  fancy,  General  Vandeleur,"  retorted 
Charlie,  "that  because  my  sister  has  had  the  misfortune 
to  marry  you,  she  there  and  then  forfeited  her  rights  and 
privileges  as  a  lady?  I  own,  sir,  that  by  that  action  she 
did  as  much  as  anybody  could  to  derogate  from  her  posi- 
tion; but  to  me  she  is  still  a  Pendragon.  I  make  it  my 
business  to  protect  her  from  ungentlemanly  outrage,  and 
if  you  were  ten  times  her  husband  I  would  not  permit  her 
liberty  to  be  restrained,  nor  her  private  messenger  to  be 
violently  arrested." 

"How  is  that,  Mr.  Hartley?"  interrogated  the  General. 

"Mr.  Pendragon  is  of  my  opinion,  it  appears.  He  too 
suspects  that  Lady  Vandeleur  has  something  to  do  with 
your  friend's  silk  hat." 

Charlie  saw  that  he  had  committed  an  unpardonable 
blunder,  which  he  hastened  to  repair. 

"How,  sir?"  he  cried;  "I  suspect,  do  you  say?  I  sus- 
pect nothing.  Only  where  I  find  strength  abused  and  a 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  103 

man  brutalizing  his  inferiors,  I  take  the  liberty  to  in- 
terfere." 

As  he  said  these  words  he  made  a  sign  to  Harry,  which 
the  latter  was  too  dull  or  too  much  troubled  to  understand. 

"In  what  way  am  I  to  construe  your  attitude,  sir?" 
demanded  Vandeleur. 

"Why,  sir,  as  you  please,"  returned  Pendragon. 

The  General  once  more  raised  his  cane,  and  made  a  cut 
for  Charlie's  head;  but  the  latter,  lame  foot  and  all, 
evaded  the  blow  with  his  umbrella,  ran  in,  and  immedi- 
ately closed  with  his  formidable  adversary. 

"Run,  Harry,  run!"  he  cried;  "run,  you  dolt!" 

Harry  stood  petrified  for  a  moment,  watching  the  two 
men  sway  together  in  this  fierce  embrace;  then  he  turned 
and  took  to  his  heels.  When  he  cast  a  glance  over  his 
shoulder  he  saw  the  General  prostrate  under  Charlie's 
knee,  but  still  making  desperate  efforts  to  reverse  the 
situation;  and  the  Gardens  seemed  to  have  filled  with 
people,  who  were  running  from  all  directions  towards  the 
scene  of  fight.  This  spectacle  lent  the  secretary  wings; 
and  he  did  not  relax  his  pace  until  he  had  gained  the 
Bayswater  road,  and  plunged  at  random  into  an  unfre- 
quented by-street. 

To  see  two  gentlemen  of  his  acquaintance  thus  brutally 
mauling  each  other  was  deeply  shocking  to  Harry.  He 
desired  to  forget  the  sight;  he  desired,  above  all,  to  put 
as  great  a  distance  as  possible  between  himself  and  Gen- 
eral Vandeleur;  and  in  his  eagerness  for  this  he  forgot 
everything  about  his  destination,  and  hurried  before  him 
headlong  and  trembling.  When  he  remembered  that  Lady 
Vandeleur  was  the  wife  of  one  and  sister  of  the  other  of 
these  gladiators,  his  heart  was  touched  with  sympathy 
for  a  woman  so  distressingly  misplaced  in  life.  Even 
his  own  situation  in  the  General's  house  looked  hardly  so 


104  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

pleasing  as  usual  in  the  light  of  these  violent  trans- 
actions. 

He  had  walked  some  little  distance,  busied  with  these 
meditations,  before  a  slight  collision  with  another  pas- 
senger reminded  him  of  the  bandbox  on  his  arm. 

' ' Heavens ! ' '  cried  he, '  'where  was  my  head  ?  and  whither 
have  I  wandered?" 

Thereupon  he  consulted  the  envelope  which  Lady  Van- 
deleur  had  given  him.  The  address  was  there,  but  with- 
out a  name.  Harry  was  simply  directed  to  ask  for  "the 
gentleman  who  expected  a  parcel  from  Lady  Vandeleur," 
and  if  he  were  not  at  home  to  await  his  return.  The 
gentleman,  added  the  note,  should  present  a  receipt  in 
the  handwriting  of  the  lady  herself.  All  this  seemed 
mighty  mysterious,  and  Harry  was  above  all  astonished 
at  the  omission  of  the  name  and  the  formality  of  the  re- 
ceipt. He  had  thought  little  of  this  last  when  he  heard 
it  dropped  in  conversation;  but  reading  it  in  cold  blood, 
and  taking  it  in  connection  with  the  other  strange  par- 
ticulars, he  became  convinced  that  he  was  engaged  in 
perilous  affairs.  For  half  a  moment  he  had  a  doubt  of 
Lady  Vandeleur  herself;  for  he  found  these  obscure  pro- 
ceedings somewhat  unworthy  of  so  high  a  lady,  and 
became  more  critical  when  her  secrets  were  preserved 
against  himself.  But  her  empire  over  his  spirit  was  too 
complete,  he  dismissed  his  suspicions,  and  blamed  himself 
roundly  for  having  so  much  as  entertained  them. 

In  one  thing,  however,  his  duty  and  interest,  his  gen- 
erosity and  his  terrors,  coincided — to  get  rid  of  the 
bandbox  with  the  greatest  possible  despatch. 

He  accosted  the  first  policeman  and  courteously  inquired 
his  way.  It  turned  out  that  he  was  already  not  far  from 
his  destination,  and  a  walk  of  a  few  minutes  brought  him 
to  a  small  house  in  a  lane,  freshly  painted,  and  kept  with 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  105 

the  most  scrupulous  attention.  The  knocker  and  bell -pull 
were  highly  polished ;  flowering  pot-herbs  garnished  the 
sills  of  the  different  windows;  and  curtains  of  some  rich 
material  concealed  the  interior  from  the  eyes  of  curious 
passengers.  The  place  had  an  air  of  repose  and  secrecy; 
and  Harry  was  so  far  caught  with  this  spirit  that  he 
knocked  with  more  than  usual  discretion,  and  was  more 
than  usually  careful  to  remove  all  impurity  from  his 
boots. 

A  servant-maid  of  some  personal  attractions  immedi- 
ately opened  the  door,  and  seemed  to  regard  the  secretary 
with  no  unkind  eyes. 

"This  is  the  parcel  from  Lady  Vandeleur, "  said  Harry. 

"I  know,"  replied  the  maid,  with  a  nod.  "But  the 
gentleman  is  from  home.  Will  you  leave  it  with  me?" 

"I  cannot,"  answered  Harry.  "I  am  directed  not  to 
part  with  it  but  upon  a  certain  condition,  and  I  must  ask 
you,  I  am  afraid,  to  let  me  wait." 

"Well,"  said  she,  "I  suppose  I  may  let  you  wait.  I 
am  lonely  enough,  I  can  tell  you,  and  you  do  not  look  as 
though  you  would  eat  a  girl.  But  be  sure  and  do  not  ask 
the  gentleman's  name,  for  that  I  am  not  to  tell  you." 

"Do  you  say  so?"  cried  Harry.  "Why,  how  strange! 
But  indeed  for  some  time  back  I  walk  among  surprises. 
One  question  I  think  I  may  surely  ask  without  indiscre- 
tion: Is  he  the  master  of  this  house?" 

"He  is  a  lodger,  and  not  eight  days  old  at  that,"  re- 
turned the  maid.  "And  now  a  question  for  a  question: 
Do  you  know  Lady  Vandeleur?" 

"I  am  her  private  secretary,"  replied  Harry,  with  a 
glow  of  modest  pride. 

"She  is  pretty,  is  she  not?"  pursued  the  servant. 

"Oh,  beautiful!"  cried  Harry;  "wonderfully  lovely, 
and  not  less  good  and  kind!" 


106  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"You  look  kind  enough  yourself ,"  she  retorted;  "and  I 
wager  you  are  worth  a  dozen  Lady  Vandeleurs." 

Harry  was  properly  scandalized. 

"I!"  he  cried.     "I  am  only  a  secretary!" 

"Do  you  mean  that  for  me?"  said  the  girl.  "Because 
I  am  only  a  housemaid,  if  you  please."  And  then,  relent- 
ing at  the  sight  of  Harry's  obvious  confusion,  "I  know 
you  mean  .nothing  of  the  sort,"  she  added;  "and  I  like 
your  looks;  but  I  think  nothing  of  your  Lady  Vandeleur. 
Oh,  these  mistresses!"  she  cried.  "To  send  out  a  real 
gentleman  like  you — with  a  bandbox — in  broad  day!" 

During  this  talk  they  had  remained  in  their  original 
positions — she  on  the  doorstep,  he  on  the  sidewalk,  bare- 
headed for  the  sake  of  coolness,  and  with  the  bandbox  on 
his  arm.  But  upon  this  last  speech  Harry,  who  was 
unable  to  support  such  point-blank  compliments  to  his 
appearance,  nor  the  encouraging  look  with  which  they 
were  accompanied,  began  to  change  his  attitude,  and 
glance  from  left  to  right  in  perturbation.  In  so  doing 
he  turned  his  face  towards  the  lower  end  of  the  lane,  and 
there,  to  his  indescribable  dismay,  his  eyes  encountered 
those  of  General  Vandeleur.  The  General,  in  a  prodigious 
fluster  of  heat,  hurry,  and  indignation,  had  been  scouring 
the  streets  in  chase  of  his  brother-in-law;  but  so  soon  as 
he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  delinquent  secretary  his  pur- 
pose changed,  his  anger  flowed  into  a  new  channel,  and 
he  turned  on  his  heel  and  came  tearing  up  the  lane  with 
truculent  gestures  and  vociferations. 

Harry  made  but  one  bolt  of  it  into  the  house,  driving 
the  maid  before  him;  and  the  door  was  slammed  in  his 
pursuer's  countenance. 

"Is  there  a  bar?  Will  it  lock?"  asked  Harry,  while  a 
salvo  on  the  knocker  made  the  house  echo  from  wall  to 
wall. 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  107 

"Why,  what  is  wrong  with  you?"  asked  the  maid. 
"Is  it  this  old  gentleman?" 

"If  he  gets  hold  of  me,"  whispered  Harry,  "I  am  as 
good  as  dead.  He  has  been  pursuing  me  all  day,  carries 
a  sword-stick,  and  is  an  Indian  military  officer." 

"These  are  fine  manners, ' '  cried  the  maid.  "And  what, 
if  you  please,  may  be  his  name?" 

"It  is  the  General,  my  master,"  answered  Harry.  "He 
is  after  this  bandbox." 

"Did  not  I  tell  you?"  cried  the  maid  in  triumph.  "I 
told  you  I  thought  worse  than  nothing  of  your  Lady  Van- 
deleur;  and  if  you  had  an  eye  in'yourhead  you  might  see 
what  she  is  for  yourself.  An  ungrateful  minx,  I  will  be 
bound  for  that!" 

The  General  renewed  his  attack  upon  the  knocker,  and 
his  passion  growing  with  delay,  began  to  kick  and  beat 
upon  the  panels  of  the  door. 

"It  is  lucky,"  observed  the  girl,  "that  I  am  alone  in 
the  house;  your  General  may  hammer  until  he  is  weary, 
and  there  is  none  to  open  for  him.  Follow  me!" 

So  saying  she  led  Harry  into  the  kitchen,  where  she 
made  him  sit  down,  and  stood  by  him  herself  in  an  affec- 
tionate attitude,  with  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  The  din 
at  the  door,  so  far  from  abating,  continued  to  increase 
in  volume,  and  at  each  blow  the  unhappy  secretary  was 
shaken  to  the  heart. 

"What  is  your  name?"  asked  the  girl. 

"Harry  Hartley,"  he  replied. 

"Mine,"  she  went  on,  "is  Prudence.   Do  you  like  it?" 

"Very  much,"  said  Harry.  "But  hear  for  a  moment 
how  the  General  beats  upon  the  door.  He  will  certainly 
break  it  in,  and  then,  in  heaven's  name,  what  have  I  to 
look  for  but  death?" 

"You  put  yourself  very  much  about  with  no  occasion," 


108  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

answered  Prudence.  "Let  your  General  knock,  he  will  do 
no  more  than  blister  his  hands.  Do  you  think  I  would 
keep  you  here  if  I  were  not  sure  to  save  you?  Oh,  no,  I 
am  a  good  friend  to  those  that  please  me !  and  we  have  a 
back  door  upon  another  lane.  But,"  she  added,  checking 
him,  for  he  had  got  upon  his  feet  immediately  on  this 
welcome  news,  "but  I  will  not  show  where  it  is  unless 
you  kiss  me.  Will  you,  Harry?" 

"That  I  will,"  he  cried,  remembering  his  gallantry, 
"not  for  your  back  door,  but  because  you  are  good  and 
pretty." 

And  he  administered  two  or  three  cordial  salutes,  which 
were  returned  to  him  in  kind. 

Then  Prudence  led  him  to  the  back  gate,  and  put  her 
hand  upon  the  key. 

"Will  you  come  and  see  me?"  she  asked. 

"I  will  indeed,"  said  Harry.  "Do  not  I  owe  you  my 
life?" 

"And  now,"  she  added,  opening  the  door,  "run  as  hard 
as  you  can,  for  I  shall  let  in  the  General." 

Harry  scarcely  required  this  advice;  fear  had  him  by 
the  forelock;  and  he  addressed  himself  diligently  to  flight. 
A  few  steps,  and  he  believed  he  would  return  to  Lady 
Vandeleur  in  honor  and  safety.  But  these  few  steps  had 
not  been  taken  before  he  heard  a  man's  voice,  hailing  him 
by  name  with  many  execrations,  and,  looking  over  his 
shoulder,  he  beheld  Charlie  Pendragon  waving  him  with 
both  arms  to  return.  The  shock  of  this  new  incident  was 
so  sudden  and  profound,  and  Harry  was  already  worked 
into  so  high  a  state  of  nervous  tension,  that  he  could  think 
of  nothing  better  than  to  accelerate  his  pace,  and  continue 
running.  He  should  certainly  have  remembered  the  scene 
in  Kensington  Gardens;  he  should  certainly  have  con- 
cluded that,  where  the  General  was  his  enemy,  Charlie 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  109 

Pendragon  could  be  no  other  than  a  friend.  But  such 
was  the  fever  and  perturbation  of  his  mind  that  he  was 
struck  by  none  of  these  considerations,  and  only  continued 
to  run  the  faster  up  the  lane. 

Charlie,  by  the  sound  of  his  voice  and  the  vile  terms 
that  he  hurled  after  the  secretary,  was  obviously  beside 
himself  with  rage.  He,  too,  ran  his  very  best;  but,  try 
as  he  might,  the  physical  advantages  were  not  upon  his 
side,  and  his  outcries  and  the  fall  of  his  lame  foot  on  the 
macadam  began  to  fall  farther  and  farther  into  the  wake. 

Harry's  hopes  began  once  more  to  arise.  The  lane  was 
both  steep  and  narrow,  but  it  was  exceedingly  solitary, 
bordered  on  either  hand  by  garden  walls,  overhung  with 
foliage;  and,  for  as  far  as  the  fugitive  could  see  in  front 
of  him,  there  was  neither  a  creature  moving  nor  an  open 
door.  Providence,  weary  of  persecution,  was  now  offering 
him  an  open  field  for  his  escape. 

Alas !  as  he  came  abreast  of  a  garden  door  under  a  tuft 
of  chestnuts,  it  was  suddenly  drawn  back,  and  he  could 
see  inside,  upon  a  garden  path,  the  figure  of  a  butcher's 
boy  with  his  tray  upon  his  arm.  He  had  hardly  recog- 
nized the  fact  before  he  was  some  steps  beyond  upon  the 
other  side.  But  the  fellow  had  had  time  to  observe  him; 
he  was  evidently  much  surprised  to  see  a  gentleman  go  by 
at  so  unusual  a  pace;  and  he  came  out  into  the  lane  and 
began  to  call  after  Harry  with  shouts  of  ironical  encour- 
agement. 

His  appearance  gave  a  new  idea  to  Charlie  Pendragon, 
who,  although  he  was  now  sadly  out  of  breath,  once  more 
upraised  his  voice. 

"Stop  thief!"  he  cried. 

And  immediately  the  butcher's  boy  had  taken  up  the 
cry  and  joined  in  the  pursuit. 

This  was  a  bitter  moment  for  the  hunted  secretary.    It 


110  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

is  true  that  his  terror  enabled  him  once  more  to  improve 
his  pace,  and  gain  with  every  step  on  his  pursuers;  but 
he  was  well  aware  that  he  was  near  the  end  of  his  re- 
sources, and  should  he  meet  anyone  coming  the  other  way, 
his  predicament  in  the  narrow  lane  would  be  desperate 
indeed. 

"I  must  find  a  place  of  concealment, "  he  thought,  "and 
that  within  the  next  few  seconds,  or  all  is  over  with  me 
in  this  world." 

Scarcely  had  the  thought  crossed  his  mind  than  the  lane 
took  a  sudden  turning;  and  he  found  himself  hidden  from 
his  enemies.  There  are  circumstances  in  which  even  the 
least  energetic  of  mankind  learn  to  behave  with  vigor  and 
decision;  and  the  more  cautious  forget  their  prudence 
and  embrace  foolhardy  resolutions.  This  was  one  of  those 
occasions  for  Harry  Hartley;  and  those  who  knew  him 
best  would  have  been  the  most  astonished  at  the  lad's 
audacity.  He  stopped  dead,  flung  the  bandbox  over  a 
garden  wall,  and  leaping  upward  with  incredible  agility 
and  seizing  the  copestone  with  his  hands,  he  tumbled 
headlong  after  it  into  the  garden. 

He  came  to  himself  a  moment  afterwards,  seated  in  a 
border  of  small  rosebushes.  His  hands  and  knees  were 
cut  and  bleeding,  for  the  wall  had  been  protected  against 
such  an  escalade  by  a  liberal  provision  of  old  bottles;  and 
he  was  conscious  of  a  general  dislocation  and  a  painful 
swimming  in  the  head.  Facing  him  across  the  garden, 
which  was  in  admirable  order,  and  set  with  flowers  of  the 
most  delicious  perfume,  he  beheld  the  back  of  a  house. 
It  was  of  considerable  extent,  and  plainly  habitable ;  but, 
in  odd  contrast  to  the  grounds,  it  was  crazy,  ill-kept,  and 
of  a  mean  appearance.  On  all  other  sides  the  circuit  of 
the  garden  wall  appeared  unbroken. 

He  took  in  these  features  of  the  scene  with  mechanical 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  111 

glances,  but  his  mind  was  still  unable  to  piece  together 
or  draw  a  rational  conclusion  from  what  he  saw.  And 
when  he  heard  footsteps  advancing  on  the  gravel,  although 
he  turned  his  eyes  in  that  direction,  it  was  with  no 
thought  either  for  defense  or  flight. 

The  new  comer  was  a  large,  coarse,  and  very  sordid 
personage,  in  gardening  clothes,  and  with  a  watering-pot 
in  his  left  hand.  One  less  confused  would  have  been 
affected  with  some  alarm  at  the  sight  of  this  man's  huge 
proportions  and  black  and  lowering  eyes.  But  Harry  was 
too  gravely  shaken  by  his  fall  to  be  so  much  as  terrified ; 
and  if  he  was  unable  to  divert  his  glances  from  the  gar- 
dener, he  remained  absolutely  passive,  and  suffered  him 
to  draw  near,  to  take  him  by  the  shoulder,  and  to  plant 
him  roughly  on  his  feet,  without  a  motion  of  resistance. 

For  a  moment  the  two  stared  into  each  other's  eyes, 
Harry  fascinated,  the  man  filled  with  wrath  and  a  cruel, 
sneering  humor. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  demanded  at  last.  "Who  are  you 
to  come  flying  over  my  wall  and  break  my  Gloire  de 
Dijons?  What  is  your  name?"  he  added,  shaking  him; 
"and  what  may  be  your  business  here?" 

Harry  could  not  as  much  as  proffer  a  word  in  explana- 
tion. 

But  just  at  chat  moment  Pendragon  and  the  butcher's 
boy  went  cl-  .mping  past,  and  the  sound  of  their  feet  and 
their  hoar  .»  cries  echoed  loudly  in  the  narrow  lane.  The 
gardene  nad  received  his  answer;  and  he  looked  down 
into  Harry's  face  with  an  obnoxious  smile. 

"/  thief!"  he  said.  "Upon  my  word,  and  a  very  good 
thir  you  must  make  of  it;  for  I  see  you  dressed  like  a 
ger  Jeman  from  top  to  toe.  Are  you  not  ashamed  to  go 
ab  ,ut  the  world  in  such  a  trim,  with  honest  folk,  I  dare 
say,  glad  to  buy  your  cast-off  finery  second-hand?  Speak 


112  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

up,  you  dog,"  the  man  went  on;  "you  can  understand 
English,  I  suppose;  and  I  mean  to  have  a  bit  of  talk  with 
you  before  I  march  you  to  the  station." 

"Indeed,  sir,"  said  Harry,  "this  is  all  a  dreadful  mis- 
conception; and  if  you  will  go  with  me  to  Sir  Thomas 
Vandeleur's  in  Eaton  Place,  I  can  promise  that  all  will  be 
made  plain.  The  most  upright  person,  as  I  now  perceive, 
can  be  led  into  suspicious  positions." 

"My  little  man,"  replied  the  gardener,  "I  will  go  with 
you  no  farther  than  the  station-house  in  the  next  street. 
The  inspector,  no  doubt,  will  be  glad  to  take  a  stroll  with 
you  as  far  as  Eaton  Place,  and  have  a  bit  of  afternoon  tea- 
with  your  great  acquaintances.  Or  would  you  prefer  t<r 
go  direct  to  the  Home  Secretary?  Sir  Thomas  Vandeleur, 
indeed?  Perhaps  you  think  I  don't  know  a  gentleman 
when  I  see  one,  from  a  common  run-the-hedge  like  you? 
Clothes  or  no  clothes,  I  can  read  you  like  a  book.  Here 
is  a  shirt  that  maybe  cost  as  much  as  my  Sunday  hat;  and 
that  coat,  I  take  it,  has  never  seen  the  inside  of  Rag-fair, 
and  then  your  boots * 

The  man,  whose  eyes  had  fallen  upon  the  ground, 
stopped  short  in  his  insulting  commentary,  and  remained 
for  a  moment  looking  intently  upon  something  at  his 
feet.  When  he  spoke  his  voice  was  strangely  altered. 

"What,  in  God's  name,"  said  he,  "is  all  this?" 

Harry,  following  the  direction  of  the  man's  eyes,  be- 
held a  spectacle  that  struck  him  dumb  with  terror  and 
amazement.  In  his  fall  he  had  descended  vertically  upon 
the  bandbox  and  burst  it  open  from  end  to  end;  thence  a 
great  treasure  of  diamonds  had  poured  forth,  and  now 
lay  abroad,  part  trodden  in  the  soil,  part  scattered  on  the 
surface  in  regal  and  glittering  profusion.  There  was  a 
magnificent  coronet  which  he  had  often  admired  on  Lady 
Vandeleur;  there  were  rings  and  brooches,  ear-drops  and 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  113 

bracelets,  and  even  unset  brilliants  rolling  here  and  there 
among  the  rosebushes  like  drops  of  morning  dew.  A 
princely  fortune  lay  between  the  two  men  upon  the  ground 
— a  fortune  in  the  most  inviting,  solid,  and  durable  form, 
capable  of  being  carried  in  an  apron,  beautiful  in  itself, 
and  scattering  the  sunlight  in  a  million  rainbow  flashes. 

"Good  God!"  said  Harry,  "I  am  lost!" 

His  mind  raced  backward  into  the  past  with  the  incal- 
culable velocity  of  thought,  and  he  began  to  comprehend 
his  day's  adventures,  to  conceive  them  as  a  whole,  and  to 
recognize  the  sad  imbroglio  in  which  his  own  character 
and  fortunes  had  become  involved.  He  looked  round  him, 
as  if  for  help,  but  he  was  alone  in  the  garden,  with  his 
scattered  diamonds  and  his  redoubtable  interlocutor;  and 
when  he  gave  ear,  there  was  no  sound  but  the  rustle  of 
the  leaves  and  the  hurried  pulsation  of  his  heart.  It  was 
little  wonder  if  the  young  man  felt  himself  a  little  de- 
serted by  his  spirits,  and  with  a  broken  voice  repeated 
his  last  ejaculation — 

"I  am  lost!" 

The  gardener  peered  in  all  directions  with  an  air  of 
guilt;  but  there  was  no  face  at  any  of  the  windows,  and 
he  seemed  to  breathe  again. 

"Pick  up  a  heart,"  he  said,  "you  fool!  The  worst  of 
it  is  done.  Why  could  you  not  say  at  first  there  was 
enough  for  two?  Two!"  he  repeated,  "aye,  and  for  two 
hundred!  But  come  away  from  here,  where  we  may  be 
observed;  and,  for  the  love  of  wisdom,  straighten  out 
your  hat  and  brush  your  clothes.  You  could  not  travel 
two  steps  the  figure  of  fun  you  look  just  now." 

While  Harry  mechanically  adopted  these  suggestions, 
the  gardener,  getting  upon  his  knees,  hastily  drew  to- 
gether the  scattered  jewels  and  returned  them  to  the 
bandbox.  The  touch  of  these  costly  crystals  sent  a  shiver 


114  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

of  emotion  through  the  man's  stalwart  frame;  his  face 
was  transfigured,  and  his  eyes  shone  with  concupiscence; 
indeed  it  seemed  as  if  he  luxuriously  prolonged  his  occu- 
pation, and  dallied  with  every  diamond  that  he  handled. 
At  last,  however,  it  was  done;  and,  concealing  the  bandbox 
in  his  smock,  the  gardener  beckoned  to  Harry  and  pre- 
ceded him  in  the  direction  of  the  house. 

Near  the  door  they  were  met  by  a  young  man  evidently 
in  holy  orders,  dark  and  strikingly  handsome,  with  a  look 
of  mingled  weakness  and  resolution,  and  very  neatly 
attired  after  the  manner  of  his  caste.  The  gardener  was 
plainly  annoyed  by  this  encounter;  but  he  put  as  good  a 
face  upon  it  as  he  could,  and  accosted  the  clergyman  with 
an  obsequious  and  smiling  air. 

"Here  is  a  fine  afternoon,  Mr.  Holies,"  said  he:  "a 
fine  afternoon,  as  sure  as  God  made  it!  And  here  is  a 
young  friend  of  mine  who  had  a  fancy  to  look  at  my 
roses.  I  took  the  liberty  to  bring  him  in,  for  I  thought 
none  of  the  lodgers  would  object. ' ' 

"Speaking  for  myself,"  replied  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Holies,  "I  do  not;  nor  do  I  fancy  any  of  the  rest  of  us 
would  be  more  difficult  upon  so  small  a  matter.  The 
garden  is  your  own,  Mr.  Raeburn;  we  must  none  of  us 
forget  that;  and  because  you  give  us  liberty  to  walk  there 
we  should  be  indeed  ungracious  if  we  so  far  presumed 
upon  your  politeness  as  to  interfere  with  the  convenience 
of  your  friends.  But,  on  second  thoughts,"  he  added,  "I 
believe  that  this  gentleman  and  I  have  met  before.  Mr. 
Hartley,  I  think.  I  regret  to  observe  that  you  have  had 
a  fall." 

And  he  offered  his  hand. 

A  sort  of  maiden  dignity  and  a  desire  to  delay  as  long 
as  possible  the  necessity  for  explanation  moved  Harry  to 
refuse  this  chance  of  help,  and  to  deny  his  own  identity. 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  115 

He  chose  the  tender  mercies  of  the  gardener,  who  was  at 
least  unknown  to  him,  rather  than  the  curiosity  and  per- 
haps the  doubts  of  an  acquaintance. 

"I  fear  there  is  some  mistake,"  said  he.  "My  name 
is  Thomlinson  and  I  am  a  friend  of  Mr.  Raeburn's." 

"Indeed?"  said  Mr.  Holies.    "The  likeness  is  amazing. " 

Mr.  Raeburn,  who  had  been  upon  thorns  throughout 
this  colloquy,  now  felt  it  high  time  to  bring  it  to  a 
period. 

"I  wish  you  a  pleasant  saunter,  sir,"  said  he. 

And  with  that  he  dragged  Harry  after  him  into  the 
house,  and  then  into  a  chamber  on  the  garden.  His  first 
care  was  to  draw  down  the  blind,  for  Mr.  Rolles  still  re- 
mained where  they  had  left  him,  in  an  attitude  of  per- 
plexity and  thought.  Then  he  emptied  the  broken  band- 
box on  the  table,  and  stood  before  the  treasure,  thus  fully 
displayed,  with  an  expression  of  rapturous  greed,  and 
rubbing  his  hands  upon  his  thighs.  For  Harry,  the  sight 
of  the  man's  face  under  the  influence  of  this  base  emotion, 
added  another  pang  to  those  he  was  already  suffering.  It 
seemed  incredible  that,  from  his  life  of  pure  and  delicate 
trifling,  he  should  be  plunged  in  a  breath  among  sordid 
and  criminal  relations.  He  could  reproach  his  conscience 
with  no  sinful  act;  and  yet  he  was  now  suffering  the 
punishment  of  sin  in  its  most  acute  and  cruel  forms — the 
dread  of  punishment,  the  suspicions  of  the  good,  and  the 
companionship  and  contamination  of  vile  and  brutal  na- 
tures. He  felt  he  could  lay  his  life  down  with  gladness 
to  escape  from  the  room  and  the  society  of  Mr.  Raeburn. 

"And  now,"  said  the  latter,  after  he  had  separated  the 
jewels  into  two  nearly  equal  parts,  and  drawn  one  of  them 
nearer  to  himself;  "and  now,"  said  he,  "everything  in 
this  world  has  to  be  paid  for,  and  some  things  sweetly. 
You  must  know,  Mr.  Hartley,  if  such  be  your  name,  that 


116  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

I  am  a  man  of  a  very  easy  temper,  and  good  nature  has 
been  my  stumbling  block  from  first  to  last.  I  could 
pocket  the  whole  of  these  pretty  pebbles,  if  I  chose,  and 
I  should  like  to  see  you  dare  to  say  a  word;  but  I  think  I 
must  have  taken  a  liking  to  you;  for  I  declare  I  have  not 
the  heart  to  shave  you  so  close.  So,  do  you  see,  in  pure 
kind  feeling,  I  propose  that  we  divide;  and  these,"  indi- 
cating the  two  heaps,  "are  the  proportions  that  seem  to 
me  just  and  friendly.  Do  you  see  any  objection,  Mr. 
Hartley,  may  I  ask?  I  am  not  the  man  to  stick  upon  a 
brooch." 

"But,  sir,"  cried  Harry,  "what  you  propose  to  me  is 
impossible.  The  jewels  are  not  mine,  and  I  cannot  share 
what  is  another's,  no  matter  with  whom,  nor  in  what 
proportions." 

"They  are  not  yours,  are  they  not?"  returned  Raeburn. 
"And  you  could  not  share  them  with  anybody,  couldn't 
you?  Well  now,  that  is  what  I  call  a  pity;  for  here  I  am 
obliged  to  take  you  to  the  station.  The  police — think  of 
that,"  he  continued;  "think  of  the  disgrace  for  your  re- 
spectable parents;  think,"  he  went  on,  taking  Harry  by 
the  wrist;  "think  of  the  Colonies  and  the  Day  of  Judg- 
ment." 

"I  cannot  help  it,"  wailed  Harry.  "It  is  not  my  fault. 
You  will  not  come  with  me  to  Eaton  Place." 

"No,"  replied  the  man,  "I  will  not,  that  is  certain 
And  I  mean  to  divide  these  playthings  with  you  here." 

And  so  saying  he  applied  a  sudden  and  severe  torsion 
to  the  lad's  wrist. 

Harry  could  not  suppress  a  scream,  and  the  perspiration 
burst  forth  upon  his  face.  Perhaps  pain  and  terror 
quickened  his  intelligence,  but  certainly  at  that  moment 
the  whole  business  flashed  across  him  in  another  light; 
and  he  saw  that  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  t»  accede  to 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  117 

the  ruffian's  proposal,  and  trust  to  find  the  house  and 
force  him  to  disgorge,  under  more  favorable  circum- 
stances, and  when  he  himself  was  clear  from  all  suspicion. 

"I  agree,"  he  said. 

"There  is  a  lamb,"  sneered  the  gardener.  "I  thought 
you  would  recognize  your  interests  at  last.  This  band- 
box," he  continued,  "I  shall  burn  with  my  rubbish;  it  is 
a  thing  that  curious  folk  might  recognize;  and  as  for  you, 
scrape  up  your  gaieties  and  put  them  in  your  pocket." 

Harry  proceeded  to  obey,  Raeburn  watching  him,  and 
every  now  and  again,  his  greed  rekindled  by  some  bright 
scintillation,  abstracting  another  jewel  from  the  secre- 
tary's share,  and  adding  it  to  his  own. 

When  this  was  finished,  both  proceeded  to  the  front 
door,  which  Raeburn  cautiously  opened  to  observe  the 
street.  This  was  apparently  clear  of  passengers;  for  he 
suddenly  seized  Harry  by  the  nape  of  the  neck,  and  hold- 
ing his  face  downward  so  that  he  could  see  nothing  but 
the  roadway  and  the  doorsteps  of  the  houses,  pushed  him 
violently  before  him  down  one  street  and  up  another  for 
the  space  of  perhaps  a  minute  and  a  half.  Harry  had 
counted  three  corners  before  the  bully  relaxed  his  grasp, 
and  crying,  "Now  be  off  with  you!"  sent  the  lad  flying 
headforemost  with  a  well-directed  and  athletic  kick. 

When  Harry  gathered  himself  up,  half-stunned  and 
bleeding  freely  at  the  nose,  Mr.  Raeburn  had  entirely 
disappeared.  For  the  first  time,  anger  and  pain  so  com- 
pletely overcame  the  lad's  spirits  that  he  burst  into  a  fit 
of  tears  and  remained  sobbing  in  the  middle  of  the  road. 

After  he  had  thus  somewhat  assuaged  his  emotion,  he 
began  to  look  about  him  and  read  the  names  of  the  streets 
at  whose  intersection  he  had  been  deserted  by  the  gar- 
dener. He  was  still  in  an  unfrequented  portion  of  West 
London,  among  villas  and  large  gardens;  but  he  could  see 


118  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

some  persons  at  a  window  who  had  evidently  witnessed 
his  misfortune;  and  almost  immediately  after  a  servant 
came  running  from  the  house  and  offered  him  a  glass  of 
water.  At  the  same  time,  a  dirty  rogue,  who  had  been 
slouching  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood,  drew  near  him 
from  the  other  side. 

"Poor  fellow,"  said  the  maid,  "how  vilely  you  have 
been  handled,  to  be  sure!  Why,  your  knees  are  all  cut, 
and  your  clothes  ruined !  Do  you  know  the  wretch  who 
used  you  so?" 

"That  I  do!"  cried  Harry,  who  was  somewhat  refreshed 
by  the  water;  "and  shall  run  him  home  in  spite  of  his 
precautions.  He  shall  pay  dearly  for  this  day's  work,  I 
promise  you." 

"You  had  better  come  into  the  house  and  have  yourself 
washed  and  brushed,"  continued  the  maid.  "My  mis- 
tress will  make  you  welcome,  never  fear.  And  see,  I  will 
pick  up  your  hat.  Why,  love  of  mercy!"  she  screamed, 
"if  you  have  not  dropped  diamonds  all  over  the  street!" 

Such  was  the  case;  a  good  half  of  what  remained  to 
him  after  the  depredations  of  Mr.  Raeburn,  had  been 
shaken  out  of  his  pockets  by  the  summersault,  and  once 
more  lay  glittering  on  the  ground.  He  blessed  his  for- 
tune that  the  maid  had  been  so  quick  of  eye;  "there  is 
nothing  so  bad  but  it  might  be  worse, ' '  thought  he ;  and 
the  recovery  of  these  few  seemed  to  him  almost  as  great 
an  affair  as  the  loss  of  all  the  rest.  But,  alas!  as  he 
stooped  to  pick  up  his  treasures  the  loiterer  made  a  rapid 
onslaught,  overset  both  Harry  and  the  maid  with  a  move- 
ment of  his  arms,  swept  up  a  double  handful  of  the  dia- 
monds, and  made  off  along  the  street  with  an  amazing 
swiftness. 

Harry,  as  soon  as  he  could  get  upon  his  feet,  gave  chase 
to  the  miscreant  with  many  cries,  but  the  latter  was  too 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  119 

fleet  of  foot,  and  probably  too  well  acquainted  with  the 
locality;  for  turn  where  the  pursuer  would  he  could  find 
no  traces  of  the  fugitive. 

In  the  deepest  despondency  Harry  revisited  the  scene  of 
his  mishap,  where  the  maid,  who  was  still  waiting,  very 
honestly  returned  him  his  hat  and  the  remainder  of  the 
fallen  diamonds.  Harry  thanked  her  from  his  heart,  and 
being  now  in  no  humor  for  economy,  made  his  way  to  the 
nearest  cabstand  and  set  off  for  Eaton  Place  by  coach. 

The  house,  on  his  arrival,  seemed  in  some  confusion,  as 
if  a  catastrophe  had  happened  in  the  family;  and  the 
servants  clustered  together  in  the  hall,  and  were  unable, 
or  perhaps  not  altogether  anxious,  to  suppress  their  mer- 
riment at  the  tatterdemalion  figure  of  the  secretary.  He 
passed  them  with  as  good  an  air  of  dignity  as  he  could 
assume,  and  made  directly  for  the  boudoir.  When  he 
opened  the  door  an  astonishing  and  even  menacing  spec- 
tacle presented  itself  to  his  eyes;  for  he  beheld  the  General 
and  his  wife  and,  of  all  people,  Charlie  Pendragon,  closeted 
together  and  speaking  with  earnestness  and  gravity  on 
some  important  subject.  Harry  saw  at  once  that  there 
was  little  left  for  him  to  explain — plenary  confession  had 
plainly  been  made  to  the  General  of  the  intended  fraud 
upon  his  pocket,  and  the  unfortunate  miscarriage  of  the 
scheme;  and  they  had  all  made  common  cause  against  a 
common  danger. 

"Thank  Heaven!"  cried  Lady  Vandeleur,  "here  he  is! 
The  bandbox,  Harry — the  bandbox!" 

But  Harry  stood  before  them  silent  and  downcast. 

"Speak ! "  she  cried.    '  'Speak !   Where  is  the  bandbox? ' ' 

And  the  men,  with  threatening  gestures,  repeated  the 
demand. 

Harry  drew  a  handful  of  jewels  from  his  pocket.  He 
was  very  white. 


120  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"This  is  all  that  remains,"  said  he.  "I  declare  be- 
fore Heaven  it  was  through  no  fault  of  mine;  and  if 
you  will  have  patience,  although  some  are  lost,  I  am 
afraid,  for  ever,  others,  I  am  sure,  may  be  still  recov- 
ered!" 

"Alas!"  cried  Lady  Vandeleur,  "all  our  diamonds  are 
gone,  and  I  owe  ninety  thousand  pounds  for  dress!" 

"Madam, ' '  said  the  General,  '  'you  might  have  paved  the 
gutter  with  your  own  trash;  you  might  have  made  debts 
to  fifty  times  the  sum  you  mention;  you  might  have  robbed 
me  of  my  mother's  coronet  and  rings;  and  Nature  might 
have  still  so  far  prevailed  that  I  could  have  forgiven  you 
at  last.  But,  madam,  you  have  taken  the  Rajah's  Dia- 
mond— the  Eye  of  Light,  as  the  Orientals  poetically 
termed  it — the  Pride  of  Kashgar!  You  have  taken  from 
me  the  Rajah's  Diamond,"  he  cried,  raising  his  hands, 
"and  all,  madam,  all  is  at  an  end  between  us!" 

"Believe  me,  General  Vandeleur,"  she  replied,  "that 
is  one  of  the  most  agreeable  speeches  that  ever  I  heard 
from  your  lips;  and  since  we  are  to  be  ruined  I  could 
almost  welcome  the  change,  if  it  delivers  me  from  you. 
You  have  told  me  often  enough  that  I  married  you  for 
your  money;  let  me  tell  you  now  that  I  always  bitterly 
repented  the  bargain;  and  if  you  were  still  marriageable, 
and  had  a  diamond  bigger  than  your  head,  I  should  coun- 
sel even  my  maid  against  a  union  so  uninviting  and 
disastrous.  As  for  you,  Mr.  Hartley,"  she  continued, 
turning  on  the  secretary,  '  'you  have  sufficiently  exhibited 
your  valuable  qualities  in  this  house ;  we  are  now  persuaded 
that  you  equally  lack  manhood,  sense  and  self-respect;  and 
I  can  see  only  one  course  open  for  you — to  withdraw  in- 
stanter,  and,  if  possible,  return  no  more.  For  your  wages 
you  may  rank  as  a  creditor  in  my  late  husband's  bank- 
ruptcy." 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  121 

Harry  had  scarcely  comprehended  this  insulting  address 
before  the  General  was  down  upon  him  with  another. 

"And  in  the  mean  time,"  said  that  personage,  "follow 
me  before  the  nearest  Inspector  of  Police.  You  may  im- 
pose upon  a  simple-minded  soldier,  sir,  but  the  eye  of  the 
law  will  read  your  disreputable  secret.  If  I  must  spend 
my  old  age  in  poverty  through  your  underhand  intriguing 
with  my  wife,  I  mean  at  least  that  you  shall  not  remain 
unpunished  for  your  pains;  and  God,  sir,  will  deny  me  a 
very  considerable  satisfaction  if  you  do  not  pick  oakum 
from  now  until  your  dying  day. ' ' 

With  that  the  General  dragged  Harry  from  the  apart- 
ment, and  hurried  him  downstairs  and  along  the  street 
to  the  police-station  of  the  district. 

Here  (says  my  Arabian  author)  ended  this  deplorable 
business  of  the  bandbox.  But  to  the  unfortunate  secre- 
tary the  whole  affair  was  the  beginning  of  a  new  and 
manlier  life.  The  police  were  easily  persuaded  of  his 
innocence ;  and,  after  he  had  given  what  help  he  could  in 
the  subsequent  investigations,  he  was  even  complimented 
by  one  of  the  chiefs  of  the  detective  department  on  the 
probity  and  simplicity  of  his  behavior.  Several  persons 
interested  themselves  in  one  so  unfortunate;  and  soon 
after  he  inherited  a  sum  of  money  from  a  maiden  aunt 
in  Worcestershire.  With  this  he  married  Prudence,  and 
set  sail  for  Bendigo,  or  according  to  another  account,  for 
Trincomalee,  exceedingly  content,  and  with  the  best  of 
prospects. 


122  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 


STORY  OF  THE  YOUNG  MAN  IN  HOLY  ORDERS 

The  Reverend  Mr.  Simon  Rolles  had  distinguished 
himself  in  the  Moral  Sciences,  and  was  more  than  usually 
proficient  in  the  study  of  Divinity.  His  essay  "On  the 
Christian  Doctrine'  of  the  Social  Obligations"  obtained 
for  him  at  the  moment  of  its  production,  a  certain  celeb- 
rity in  the  University  of  Oxford;  and  it  was  understood 
in  clerical  and  learned  circles  that  young  Mr.  Rolles  had 
in  contemplation  a  considerable  work — a  folio,  it  was  said 
— on  the  authority  of  the  Fathers  of  the  Church.  These 
attainments,  these  ambitious  designs,  however,  were  far 
from  helping  him  to  any  preferment;  and  still  he  was  in 
quest  of  his  first  curacy  when  a  chance  ramble  in  that 
part  of  London,  the  peaceful  and  rich  aspect  of  the  gar- 
den, a  desire  for  solitude  and  study,  and  the  cheapness  of 
the  lodging,  led  him  to  take  up  his  abode  with  Mr.  Rae- 
burn,  the  nurseryman  of  Stockdove  Lane. 

It  was  his  habit  every  afternoon,  after  he  had  worked 
seven  or  eight  hours  on  St.  Ambrose  or  St.  Chrysostom, 
to  walk  for  a  while  in  meditation  among  the  roses.  And 
this  was  usually  one  of  the  most  productive  moments  of 
his  day.  But  even  a  sincere  appetite  for  thought,  and 
the  excitement  of  grave  problems  awaiting  solution,  are 
not  always  sufficient  to  preserve  the  mind  of  the  philoso- 
pher against  the  petty  shocks  and  contacts  of  the  world. 
And  when  Mr.  Rolles  found  General  Vandeleur's  secretary, 
ragged  and  bleeding,  in  the  company  of  the  landlord ;  when 
he  saw  both  change  color  and  seek  to  avoid  his  questions; 
and,  above  all,  when  the  former  denied  his  own  identity 
with  the  most  unmoved  assurance,  he  speedily  forgot  the 
Saints  and  Fathers  in  the  vulgar  interest  of  curiosity. 

"I  cannot  be  mistaken,"  thought  he.     "That  is  Mr. 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  123 

Hartley  beyond  a  doubt.  How  comes  he  in  such  a  pickle? 
why  does  he  deny  his  name?  and  what  can  be  his  business 
with  that  black-looking  ruffian,  my  landlord?" 

As  he  was  thus  reflecting,  another  peculiar  circumstance 
attracted  his  attention.  The  face  of  Mr.  Raeburn  ap- 
peared at  a  low  window  next  the  door;  and,  as  chance 
directed,  his  eyes  met  those  of  Mr.  Rolles.  The  nursery- 
man seemed  disconcerted,  and  even  alarmed;  and  imme- 
diately after  the  blind  of  the  apartment  was  pulled  sharply 
down. 

"This  may  all  be  very  well,"  reflected  Mr.  Rolles;  "it 
may  be  all  excellently  well;  but  I  confess  freely  that  I  do 
not  think  so.  Suspicious,  underhand,  untruthful,  fearful 
of  observation — I  believe  upon  my  soul,"  he  thought, 
"the  pair  are  plotting  some  disgraceful  action." 

The  detective  that  there  is  in  all  of  us  awoke  and  be- 
came clamant  in  the  bosom  of  Mr.  Rolles;  and  with  a 
brisk,  eager  step,  that  bore  no  resemblance  to  his  usual 
gait,  he  proceeded  to  make  the  circuit  of  the  garden. 
When  he  came  to  the  scene  of  Harry's  escalade,  his  eye 
was  at  once  arrested  by  a  broken  rosebud  and  marks  of 
trampling  on  the  mole.  He  looked  up,  and  saw  scratches 
on  the  brick,  and  a  rag  of  trouser  floating  from  a  broken 
bottle.  This,  then,  was  the  mode  of  entrance  chosen  by 
Mr.  Raeburn's  particular  friend!  It  was  thus  that  Gen- 
eral Vandeleur's  secretary  came  to  admire  a  flower-garden ! 
The  young  clergyman  whistled  softly  to  himself  as  he 
stooped  to  examine  the  ground.  He  could  make  out 
where  Harry  had  landed  from  his  perilous  leap;  he  recog- 
nized the  flat  foot  of  Mr.  Raeburn  where  it  had  sunk 
deeply  in  the  soil  as  he  pulled  up  the  Secretary  by  the 
collar;  nay,  on  a  closer  inspection,  he  seemed  to  dis- 
tinguish the  marks  of  groping  fingers,  as  though  some- 
thing had  been  spilt  abroad  and  eagerly  collected. 


124  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"Upon  my  word,"  he  thought,  "the  thing  grows  vastly 
interesting." 

And  just  then  he  caught  sight  of  something  almost  en- 
tirely buried  in  the  earth.  In  an  instant  he  had  disin- 
terred a  dainty  morocco  case,  ornamented  and  clasped  in 
gilt.  It  had  been  trodden  heavily  under  foot,  and  thus 
escaped  the  hurried  search  of  Mr.  Raeburn.  Mr.  Rolles 
opened  the  case,  and  drew  a  long  breath  of  almost  horri- 
fied astonishment;  for  there  lay  before  him,  in  a  cradle 
of  green  velvet,  a  diamond  of  prodigious  magnitude  and 
of  the  finest  water.  It  was  of  the  bigness  of  a  duck's 
egg;  beautifully  shaped,  and  without  a  flaw;  and  as  the 
sun  shone  upon  it,  it  gave  forth  a  lustre  like  that  of  elec- 
tricity, and  seemed  to  burn  in  his  hand  with  a  thousand 
internal  fires. 

He  knew  little  of  precious  stones;  but  the  Rajah's 
Diamond  was  a  wonder  that  explained  itself;  a  village 
child,  if  he  found  it,  would  run  screaming  for  the  nearest 
cottage;  and  a  savage  would  prostrate  himself  in  adora- 
tion before  so  imposing  a  fetish.  The  beauty  of  the  stone 
flattered  the  young  clergyman's  eyes;  the  thought  of  its 
incalculable  value  overpowered  his  intellect.  He  knew 
that  what  he  held  in  his  hand  was  worth  more  than  many 
years'  purchase  of  an  archiepiscopal  see;  that  it  would 
build  cathedrals  more  stately  than  Ely  or  Cologne;  that 
he  who  possessed  it  was  set  free  for  ever  from  the  primal 
curse,  and  might  follow  his  own  inclinations  without 
concern  or  hurry,  without  let  or  hindrance.  And  as  he 
suddenly  turned  it,  the  rays  leaped  forth  again  with  re- 
newed brilliancy,  and  seemed  to  pierce  his  very  heart. 

Decisive  actions  are  often  taken  in  a  moment  and  with- 
out any  conscious  deliverance  from  the  rational  parts  of 
man.  So  it  was  now  with  Mr.  Rolles.  He  glanced  hur- 
riedly round;  beheld,  like  Mr.  Raeburn  before  him,  noth- 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  125 

ing  but  the  sunlit  flower-garden,  the  tall  tree-tops,  and 
the  house  with  blinded  windows;  and  in  a  trice  he  had 
shut  the  case,  thrust  it  into  his  pocket,  and  was  hastening 
to  his  study  with  the  speed  of  guilt. 

The  Reverend  Simon  Holies  had  stolen  the  Rajah's 
Diamond. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  the  police  arrived  with  Harry 
Hartley.  The  nurseryman,  who  was  beside  himself  with 
terror,  readily  discovered  his  hoard ;  and  the  jewels  were 
identified  and  inventoried  in  the  presence  of  the  secre- 
tary. As  for  Mr.  Rolles,  he  showed  himself  in  a  most 
obliging  temper,  communicated  what  he  knew  with  free- 
dom, and  professed  regret  that  he  could  do  no  more  to 
help  the  officers  in  their  duty. 

"Still,"  he  added,  "I  suppose  your  business  is  nearly 
at  an  end." 

"By  no  means,"  replied  the  man  from  Scotland  Yard; 
and  he  narrated  the  second  robbery  of  which  Harry  had 
been  the  immediate  victim,  and  gave  the  young  clergy- 
man a  description  of  the  more  important  jewels  that 
were  still  not  found,  dilating  particularly  on  the  Rajah's 
Diamond. 

"It  must  be  worth  a  fortune,"  observed  Mr.  Rolles. 

"Ten  fortunes — twenty  fortunes,"  cried  the  officer. 

"The  more  it  is  worth,"  remarked  Simon,  shrewdly, 
"the  more  difficult  it  must  be  to  sell.  Such  a  thing  has 
a  physiognomy  not  to  be  disguised,  and  I  should  fancy  a 
man  might  as  easily  negotiate  St.  Paul's  Cathedral." 

"Oh,  truly!"  said  the  officer;  "but  if  the  thief  be  a 
man  of  any  intelligence,  he  will  cut  it  into  three  or  four, 
and  there  will  be  still  enough  to  make  him  rich." 

'  'Thank  you, ' '  said  the  clergyman.  '  'You  cannot  imagine 
how  much  your  conversation  interests  me." 

Whereupon  the  functionary  admitted  that  they  knew 


126  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

many  strange  things  in  his  profession,  and  immediately 
after  took  his  leave. 

Mr.  Holies  regained  his  apartment.  It  seemed  smaller 
and  barer  than  usual ;  the  materials  for  his  great  work 
had  never  presented  so  little  interest;  and  he  looked  upon 
his  library  with  the  eye  of  scorn.  He  took  down,  volume 
by  volume,  several  Fathers  of  the  Church,  and  glanced 
them  through;  but  they  contained  nothing  to 'his  purpose. 

"These  old  gentlemen, "  thought  he,  "are  no  doubt  very 
valuable  writers,  but  they  seem  to  me  conspicuously  ig- 
norant of  life.  Here  am  I,  with  learning  enough  to  be 
a  Bishop,  and  I  positively  do  not  know  how  to  dispose  of  a 
stolen  diamond.  I  glean  a  hint  from  a  common  policeman, 
and,  with  all  my  folios,  I  cannot  so  much  as  put  it  into 
execution.  This  inspires  me  with  very  low  ideas  of 
University  training." 

Herewith  he  kicked  over  his  book-shelf  and,  putting  on 
his  hat,  hastened  from  the  house  to  the  club  of  which  he 
was  a  member.  In  such  a  place  of  mundane  resort  he 
hoped  to  find  some  man  of  good  counsel  and  a  shrewd 
experience  in  life.  In  the  reading-room  he  saw  many  of 
the  country  clergy  and  an  Archdeacon ;  there  were  three 
journalists  and  a  writer  upon  the  Higher  Metaphysic, 
playing  pool;  and  at  dinner  only  the  raff  of  ordinary  club 
frequenters  showed  their  commonplace  and  obliterated 
countenances.  None  of  these,  thought  Mr.  Rolles,  would 
know  more  on  dangerous  topics  than  he  knew  himself; 
none  of  them  were  fit  to  give  him  guidance  in  his  present 
strait.  At  length,  in  the  smoking-room,  up  many  weary 
stairs,  he  hit  upon  a  gentleman  of  somewhat  portly  build 
and  dressed  with  conspicuous  plainness.  He  was  smoking 
a  cigar  and  reading  the  Fortnightly  Review ;  his  face  was 
singularly  free  from  all  sign  of  preoccupation  or  fatigue; 
and  there  was  something  in  his  air  which  seemed  to  invite 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  127 

confidence  and  to  expect  submission.  The  more  the  young 
clergyman  scrutinized  his  features,  the  more  he  was  con- 
vinced that  he  had  fallen  on  one  capable  of  giving  perti- 
nent advice. 

"Sir,"  said  he,  "you  will  excuse  my  abruptness;  but  I 
judge  you  from  your  appearance  to  be  preeminently  a 
man  of  the  world." 

"I  have  indeed  considerable  claims  to  that  distinction," 
replied  the  stranger,  laying  aside  his  magazine  with  a 
look  of  mingled  amusement  and  surprise. 

"I,  sir,"  continued  the  Curate,  "am  a  recluse,  a  stu- 
dent, a  creature  of  ink-bottles  and  patristic  folios.  A 
recent  event  has  brought  my  folly  vividly  before  my  eyes, 
and  I  desire  to  instruct  myself  in  life.  By  life, ' '  he  added, 
"I  do  not  mean  Thackeray's  novels;  but  the  crimes  and 
secret  possibilities  of  our  society,  and  the  principles  of 
wise  conduct  among  exceptional  events.  I  am  a  patient 
reader;  can  the  thing  be  learnt  in  books?" 

"You  put  me  in  a  difficulty,"  said  the  stranger.  "I 
confess  I  have  no  great  notion  of  the  use  of  books,  except 
to  amuse  a  railway  journey;  although,  I  believe,  there  are 
some  very  exact  treatises  on  astronomy,  the  use  of  the 
globes,  agriculture,  and  the  art  of  making  paper  flowers. 
Upon  the  less  apparent  provinces  of  life  I  fear  you  will 
find  nothing  truthful.  Yet  stay,"  he  added,  "have  you 
read  Gaboriau?" 

Mr.  Holies  admitted  he  had  never  even  heard  the 
name. 

"You  may  gather  some  notions  from  Gaboriau,"  re- 
sumed the  stranger.  "He  is  at  least  suggestive;  and  as 
he  is  an  author  much  studied  by  Prince  Bismarck,  you 
will,  at  the  worst,  lose  your  time  in  good  society." 

"Sir,"  said  the  Curate,  "I  am  infinitely  obliged  by 
your  politeness." 


128  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"You  have  already  more  than  repaid  me,"  returned  the 
other. 

"How?"  inquired  Simon. 

"By  the  novelty  of  your  request,"  replied  the  gentle- 
man; and  with  a  polite  gesture,  as  though  to  ask  permis- 
sion, he  resumed  the  study  of  the  Fortnightly  Review. 

On  his  way  home  Mr.  Rolles  purchased  a  work  on 
precious  stones  and  several  of  Gaboriau's  novels.  These 
last  he  eagerly  skimmed  until  an  advanced  hour  in  the 
morning;  but  although  they  introduced  him  to  many  new 
ideas,  he  could  nowhere  discover  what  to  do  with  a  stolen 
diamond.  He  was  annoyed,  moreover,  to  find  the  infor- 
mation scattered  amongst  romantic  story-telling,  instead 
of  soberly  set  forth  after  the  manner  of  a  manual ;  and  he 
concluded  that,  even  if  the  writer  had  thought  much  upon 
these  subjects,  he  was  totally  lacking  in  educational 
method.  For  the  character  and  attainments  of  Lecoq, 
however,  he  was  unable  to  contain  his  admiration. 

"He  was  truly  a  great  creature, ' '  ruminated  Mr.  Rolles. 
"He  knew  the  world  as  I  know  Paley's  Evidences.  There 
was  nothing  that  he  could  not  carry  to  a  termination  with 
his  own  hand,  and  against  the  largest  odds.  Heavens!" 
he  broke  out  suddenly,  "is  not  this  the  lesson?  Must  I 
not  learn  to  cut  diamonds  for  myself?" 

It  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  had  sailed  at  once  out  of  his 
perplexities;  he  remembered  that  he  knew  a  jeweller,  one 
B.  Macculloch,  in  Edinburgh,  who  would  be  glad  to  put 
him  in  the  way  of  the  necessary  training;  a  few  months, 
perhaps  a  few  years,  of  sordid  toil,  and  he  would  be 
sufficiently  expert  to  divide  and  sufficiently  cunning  to 
dispose  with  advantage  of  the  Rajah's  Diamond.  That 
done,  he  might  return  to  pursue  his  researches  at  leisure, 
a  wealthy  and  luxurious  student,  envied  and  respected  by 
all.  Golden  visions  attended  him  through  his  slumber, 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  129 

and  he  awoke  refreshed  and  light-hearted  with  the  morn- 
ing sun. 

Mr.  Raeburn's  house  was  on  that  day  to  be  closed  by 
the  police,  and  this  afforded  a  pretext  for  his  departure. 
He  cheerfully  prepared  his  baggage,  transported  it  to 
King's  Cross,  where  he  left  it  in  the  cloak-room,  and 
returned  to  the  club  to  while  away  the  afternoon  and  dine. 

"If  you  dine  here  to-day,  Holies,"  observed  an  ac- 
quaintance, "you  may  see  two  of  the  most  remarkable 
men  in  England — Prince  Florizel  of  Bohemia,  and  old 
Jack  Vandeleur." 

"I  have  heard  of  the  Prince, "  replied  Mr.  Holies;  "and 
General  Vandeleur  I  have  even  met  in  society. ' ' 

"General  Vandeleur  is  an  ass!"  returned  the  other. 
"This  is  his  brother  John,  the  biggest  adventurer,  the 
best  judge  of  precious  stones,  and  one  of  the  most  acute 
diplomatists  in  Europe.  Have  you  never  heard  of  his 
duel  with  the  Due  de  Val  d'Orge?  of  his  exploits  and 
atrocities  when  he  was  Dictator  of  Paraguay?  of  his  dex- 
terity in  recovering  Sir  Samuel  Levy's  jewelry?  nor  of 
his  services  in  the  Indian  Mutiny — services  by  which  the 
Government  profited,  but  which  the  Government  dared 
not  recognize?  You  make  me  wonder  what  we  mean  by 
fame,  or  even  by  infamy;  for  Jack  Vandeleur  has  prodig- 
ious claims  to  both.  Run  down  stairs,"  he  continued, 
"take  a  table  near  them,  and  keep  your  ears  open.  You 
will  hear  some  strange  talk,  or  I  am  much  misled." 

"But  how  shall  I  know  them?"  inquired  the  clergy- 
man. 

"Know  them!"  cried  his  friend;  "why,  the  Prince  is 
the  finest  gentleman  in  Europe,  the  only  living  creature 
who  looks  like  a  king;  and  as  for  Jack  Vandeleur,  if  you 
can  imagine  Ulysses  at  seventy  years  of  age,  and  with  a 
sabre-cut  across  his  face,  you  have  the  man  before  you! 


130  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

Know  them,  indeed!  Why,  you  could  pick  either  of  them 
out  of  a  Derby  day!" 

Holies  eagerly  hurried  to  the  dining-room.  It  was  as 
his  friend  had  asserted ;  it  was  impossible  to  mistake  the 
pair  in  question.  Old  John  Vandeleur  was  of  remarkable 
force  of  body,  and  obviously  broken  to  the  most  difficult 
exercises.  He  had  neither  the  carriage  of  a  swordsman, 
nor  of  a  sailor,  nor  yet  of  one  much  inured  to  the  saddle; 
but  something  made  up  of  all  these,  and  the  result  and 
expression  of  many  different  habits  and  dexterities.  His 
features  were  bold  and  aquiline;  his  expression  arrogant 
and  predatory;  his  whole  appearance  that  of  a  swift,  vio- 
lent, unscrupulous  man  of  action;  and  his  copious  white 
hair  and  the  deep  sabre-cut  that  traversed  his  nose  and 
temple  added  a  note  of  savagery  to  a  head  already 
remarkable  and  menacing  in  itself. 

In  his  companion,  the  Prince  of  Bohemia,  Mr.  Holies 
was  astonished  to  recognize  the  gentleman  who  had  recom- 
mended him  the  study  of  Gaboriau.  Doubtless  Prince 
Florizel,  who  rarely  visited  the  club,  of  which,  as  of  most 
others,  he  was  an  honorary  member,  had  been  waiting  for 
John  Vandeleur  when  Simon  accosted  him  on  the  previous 
evening. 

The  other  diners  had  modestly  retired  into  the  angles  of 
the  room,  and  left  the  distinguished  pair  in  a  certain 
isolation,  but  the  young  clergyman  was  unrestrained  by 
any  sentiment  of  awe,  and,  marching  up,  took  his  place 
at  the  nearest  table. 

The  conversation  was,  indeed,  new  to  the  student's  ears. 
The  ex-Dictator  of  Paraguay  stated  many  extraordinary 
experiences  in  different  quarters  of  the  world ;  and  the 
Prince  supplied  a  commentary  which,  to  a  man  of  thought, 
was  even  more  interesting  than  the  events  themselves. 
Two  forms  of  experience  were  thus  brought  together  and 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  131 

laid  before  the  young  clergyman;  and  he  did  not  know 
which  to  admire  the  most — the  desperate  actor  or  the 
skilled  expert  in  life;  the  man  who  spoke  boldly  of  his 
own  deeds  and  perils,  or  the  man  who  seemed,  like  a  god, 
to  know  all  things  and  to  have  suffered  nothing.  The 
manner  of  each  aptly  fitted  with  his  part  in  the  discourse. 
The  Dictator  indulged  in  brutalities  alike  of  speech  and 
gesture;  his  hand  opened  and  shut  and  fell  roughly  on  the 
table;  and  his  voice  was  loud  and  heady.  The  Prince,  on 
the  other  hand,  seemed  the  very  type  of  urbane  docility 
and  quiet;  the  least  movement,  the  least  inflection,  had 
with  him  a  weightier  significance  than  all  the  sh  uts  and 
pantomime  of  his  companion;  and  if  ever,  as  must  fre- 
quently have  been  the  case,  he  described  some  experience 
personal  to  himself,  it  was  so  aptly  dissimulated  as  to  pass 
unnoticed  with  the  rest. 

At  length  the  talk  wandered  on  to  the  late  robberies 
and  the  Rajah's  Diamond. 

"That  diamond  would  be  better  in  the  sea,"  observed 
Prince  Florizel. 

"As  a  Vandeleur,"  replied  the  Dictator,  "your  High- 
ness may  imagine  my  dissent." 

"I  speak  on  grounds  of  public  policy,"  pursued  the 
Prince.  "Jewels  so  valuable  should  be  reserved  for  the 
collection  of  a  Prince  or  the  treasury  of  a  great  nation. 
To  hand  them  about  among  the  common  sort  of  men  is  to 
set  a  price  on  Virtue's  head;  and  if  the  Rajah  of  Kashgar 
—a  Prince,  I  understand,  of  great  enlightenment — desired 
vengeance  upon  the  men  of  Europe,  he  could  hardly  have 
gone  more  efficaciously  about  his  purpose  than  by  sending 
us  this  apple  of  discord.  There  is  no  honesty  too  robust 
for  such  a  trial.  I  myself,  who  have  many  duties  and 
privileges  of  my  own — I  myself,  Mr.  Vandeleur,  could 
scarcely  handle  the  intoxicating  crystal  and  be  safe.  As 


132  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

for  you,  who  are  a  diamond-hunter  by  taste  and  profes- 
sion, I  do  not  believe  there  is  a  crime  in  the  calendar  you 
would  not  perpetrate — I  do  not  believe  you  have  a  friend 
in  the  world  whom  you  would  not  eagerly  betray — I  do 
not  know  if  you  have  a  family,  but  if  you  have  I  declare 
you  would  sacrifice  your  children — and  all  this  for  what? 
Not  to  be  richer,  nor  to  have  more  comforts  or  more 
respect,  but  simply  to  call  this  diamond  yours  for  a  year 
or  two  until  you  die,  and  now  and  again  to  open  a  safe 
and  look  at  it  as  one  looks  at  a  picture. ' ' 

"It  is  true,"  replied  Vandeleur.  "I  have  hunted  most 
things,  from  men  and  women  down  to  mosquitoes;  I  have 
dived  for  coral;  I  have  followed  both  whales  and  tigers; 
and  a  diamond  is  the  tallest  quarry  of  the  lot.  It  has 
beauty  and  worth ;  it  alone  can  properly  reward  the  ardors 
of  the  chase.  At  this  moment,  as  your  Highness  may 
fancy,  I  am  upon  the  trail;  I  have  a  sure  knack,  a  wide 
experience;  I  know  every  stone  of  price  in  my  brother's 
collection  as  a  shepherd  knows  his  sheep;  and  I  wish  I 
may  die  if  I  do  not  recover  them  every  one!" 

"Sir  Thomas  Vandeleur  will  have  great  cause  to  thank 
you,"  said  the  Prince. 

"I  am  not  so  sure,"  returned  the  Dictator,  with  a 
laugh.  "One  of  the  Vandeleurs  will.  Thomas  or  John 
— Peter  or  Paul — we  are  all  apostles." 

"I  did  not  catch  your  observation,"  said  the  Prince 
with  some  disgust. 

And  at  the  same  moment  the  waiter  informed  Mr. 
Vandeleur  that  his  cab  was  at  the  door. 

Mr.  Rolles  glanced  at  the  clock,  and  saw  that  he  also 
must  be  moving;  and  the  coincidence  struck  him  sharply 
and  unpleasantly,  for  he  desired  to  see  no  more  of  the 
diamond  hunter. 

Much  study  having  somewhat  shaken  the  young  man's 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  133 

nerves,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  traveling  in  the  most 
luxurious  manner;  and  for  the  present  journey  he  had 
taken  a  sofa  in  the  sleeping  carriage. 

"You  will  be  very  comfortable, "  said  the  guard;  "there 
is  no  one  in  your  compartment,  and  only  one  old  gentle- 
man in  the  other  end." 

It  was  close  upon  the  hour,  and  the  tickets  were  being 
examined,  when  Mr.  Rolles  beheld  this  other  fellow- 
passenger  ushered  by  several  porters  into  his  place;  cer- 
tainly, there  was  not  another  man  in  the  world  whom  he 
would  not  have  preferred — for  it  was  old  John  Vandeleur, 
the  ex-Dictator. 

The  sleeping  carriages  on  the  Great  Northern  line  were 
divided  into  three  compartments — one  at  each  end  for 
travelers,  and  one  in  the  centre  fitted  with  the  conveni- 
ences of  a  lavatory.  A  door  running  in  grooves  separated 
each  of  the  others  from  the  lavatory ;  but  as  there  were 
neither  bolts  nor  locks,  the  whole  suite  was  practically 
common  ground. 

When  Mr.  Rolles  had  studied  his  position,  he  perceived 
himself  without  defence.  If  the  Dictator  chose  to  pay 
him  a  visit  in  the  course  of  the  night,  he  could  do  no  less 
than  receive  it;  he  had  no  means  of  fortification,  and  lay 
open  to  attack  as  if  he  had  been  lying  in  the  fields.  This 
situation  caused  him  some  agony  of  mind.  He  recalled 
with  alarm  the  boastful  statements  of  his  fellow-traveler 
across  the  dining-table,  and  the  professions  of  immorality 
which  he  had  heard  him  offering  to  the  disgusted  Prince. 
Some  persons,  he  remembered  to  have  read,  are  endowed 
with  a  singular  quickness  of  perception  for  the  neighbor- 
hood of  precious  metals;  through  walls  and  even  at  con- 
siderable distances  they  are  said  to  divine  the  presence 
of  gold.  Might  it  not  be  the  same  with  diamonds?  he 
wondered;  and  if  so,  who  was  more  likely  to  enjoy  this 


134  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

transcendental  sense  than  the  person  who  gloried  in  the 
appellation  of  the  Diamond  Hunter?  From  such  a  man 
he  recognized  that  he  had  everything  to  fear,  and  longed 
eagerly  for  the  arrival  of  the  day. 

In  the  meantime  he  neglected  no  precaution,  concealed 
his  diamond  in  the  most  internal  pocket  of  a  system  of 
great  coats,  and  devoutly  recommended  himself  to  the 
care  of  Providence. 

The  train  pursued  its  usual  even  and  rapid  course;  and 
nearly  half  the  journey  had  been  accomplished  before 
slumber  began  to  triumph  over  uneasiness  in  the  breast 
of  Mr.  Rolles.  For  some  time  he  resisted  its  influence; 
but  it  grew  upon  him  more  and  more,  and  a  little  before 
York  he  was  fain  to  stretch  himself  upon  one  of  the 
couches  and  suffer  his  eyes  to  close;  and  almost  at  the 
same  instant  consciousness  deserted  the  young  clergyman. 
His  last  thought  was  of  his  terrifying  neighbor. 

When  he  awoke  it  was  still  pitch  dark,  except  for  the 
flicker  of  the  veiled  lamp;  and  the  continual  roaring  and 
oscillation  testified  to  the  unrelaxed  velocity  of  the  train. 
He  sat  upright  in  a  panic,  for  he  had  been  tormented  by 
the  most  uneasy  dreams;  it  was  some  seconds  before  he 
recovered  his  self-command;  and  even  after  he  had  re- 
sumed a  recumbent  attitude  sleep  continued  to  flee  him, 
and  he  lay  awake  with  his  brain  in  a  state  of  violent 
agitation,  and  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  lavatory  door.  He 
pulled  his  clerical  felt  hat  over  his  brow  still  farther  to 
shield  him  from  the  light;  and  he  adopted  the  usual 
expedients,  such  as  counting  a  thousand  or  banishing 
thought,  by  which  experienced  invalids  are  accustomed 
to  woo  the  approach  of  sleep.  In  the  case  of  Mr.  Rolles 
they  proved  one  and  all  vain;  he  was  harassed  by  a  dozen 
different  anxieties — the  old  man  in  the  other  end  of  the 
carriage  haunted  him  in  the  most  alarming  shapes;  and 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  135 

in  whatever  attitude  he  chose  to  lie  the  diamond  in  his 
pocket  occasioned  him  a  sensible  physical  distress.  It 
burned,  it  was  too  large,  it  bruised  his  ribs;  and  there 
were  infinitesimal  fractions  of  a  second  in  which  he  had 
half  a  mind  to  throw  it  from  the  window. 

While  he  was  thus  lying,  a  strange  incident  took  place. 

The  sliding-door  into  the  lavatory  stirred  a  little,  and 
then  a  little  more,  and  was  finally  drawn  back  for  the 
space  of  about  twenty  inches.  The  lamp  in  the  lavatory 
was  unshaded,  and  in  the  lighted  aperture  thus  disclosed, 
Mr.  Rolles  (could  see  the  head  of  Mr.  Vandeleur  in  an 
attitude  of  deep  attention.  He  was  conscious  that  the 
gaze  of  the  Dictator  rested  intently  on  his  own  face ;  and 
the  instinct  of  self-preservation  moved  him  to  hold  his 
breath,  to  refrain  from  the  least  movement,  and  keeping 
his  eyes  lowered,  to  watch  his  visitor  from  underneath 
the  lashes.  After  about  a  moment,  the  head  was  with- 
drawn and  the  door  of  the  lavatory  replaced. 

The  Dictator  had  not  come  to  attack,  but  to  observe; 
his  action  was  not  that  of  a  man  threatening  another,  but 
that  of  a  man  who  was  himself  threatened;  if  Mr.  Rolles 
was  afraid  of  him,  it  appeared  that  he,  in  his  turn,  was 
not  quite  easy  on  the  score  of  Mr.  Rolles.  He  had  come, 
it  would  seem,  to  make  sure  that  his  only  fellow-traveler 
was  asleep;  and,  when  satisfied  on  that  point,  he  had  at 
once  withdrawn. 

The  clergyman  leaped  to  his  feet.  The  extreme  of 
terror  had  given  place  to  a  reaction  of  foolhardy  daring. 
He  reflected  that  the  rattle  of  the  flying  train  concealed 
*11  other  sounds,  and  determined,  come  what  might,  to 
return  the  visit  he  had  just  received.  Divesting  himself 
of  his  cloak,  which  might  have  interfered  with  the  free- 
dom of  his  action,  he  entered  the  lavatory  and  paused  to 
listen.  As  he  had  expected,  there  was  nothing  to  be 


136  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

heard  above  the  roar  of  the  train's  progress;  and  laying 
his  hand  on  the  door  at  the  farther  side,  he  proceeded 
cautiously  to  draw  it  back  for  about  six  inches.  Then  he 
stopped,  and  could  not  contain  an  ejaculation  of  surprise. 

John  Vandeleur  wore  a  fur  traveling  cap  with  lappets 
to  protect  his  ears;  and  this  may  have  combined  with  the 
sound  of  the  express  to  keep  him  in  ignorance  of  what 
was  going  forward.  It  is  certain,  at  least,  that  he  did 
not  raise  his  head,  but  continued  without  interruption  to 
pursue  his  strange  employment.  Between  his  feet  stood 
an  open  hat-box;  in  one  hand  he  held  the  sleeve  of  his 
sealskin  great-coat;  in  the  other  a  formidable  knife,  with 
which  he  had  just  slit  up  the  lining  of  the  sleeve.  Mr. 
Holies  had  read  of  persons  carrying  money  in  a  belt;  and 
as  he  had  no  acquaintance  with  any  but  cricket-belts,  he 
had  never  been  able  rightly  to  conceive  how  this  was 
managed.  But  here  was  a  stranger  thing  before  his  eyes; 
for  John  Vandeleur,  it  appeared,  carried  diamonds  in  the 
lining  of  his  sleeve;  and  even  as  the  young  clergyman 
gazed,  he  could  see  one  glittering  brilliant  drop  after 
another  into  the  hat-box. 

He  stood  riveted  to  the  spot,  following  this  unusual 
business  with  his  eyes.  The  diamonds  were,  for  the  most 
part,  small,  and  not  easily  distinguishable  either  in  shape 
or  fire.  Suddenly  the  Dictator  appeared  to  find  a  diffi- 
culty; he  employed  both  hands  and  stooped  over  his  task; 
but  it  was  not  until  after  considerable  manoeuvring  that 
he  extricated  a  large  tiara  of  diamonds  from  the  lining, 
and  held  it  up  for  some  seconds'  examination  before  he 
placed  it  with  the  others  in  the  hat-box.  The  tiara  was 
a  ray  of  light  to  Mr.  Holies;  he  immediately  recognized 
it  for  a  part  of  the  treasure  stolen  from  Harry  Hartley 
by  the  loiterer.  There  was  no  room  for  mistake;  it  was 
exactly  as  the  detective  had  described  it;  there  were  the 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  137 

mby  stars,  with  a  great  emerald  in  the  centre;  there 
were  the  interlacing  crescents;  and  there  were  the  pear- 
shaped  pendants,  each  a  single  stone,  which  gave  a  special 
value  to  Lady  Vandeleur's  tiara. 

Mr.  Holies  was  hugely  relieved.  The  Dictator  was  as 
deeply  in  the  affair  as  he  was;  neither  could  tell  tales 
upon  the  other.  In  the  first  glow  of  happiness,  the 
clergyman  suffered  a  deep  sigh  to  escape  him;  and  as  his 
bosom  had  become  choked  and  his  throat  dry  during  his 
previous  suspense,  the  sigh  was  followed  by  a  cough. 

Mr.  Vandeleur  looked  up;  his  face  contracted  with  the 
blackest  and  most  deadly  passion;  his  eyes  opened  widely, 
and  his  under  jaw  dropped  in  an  astonishment  that  was 
upon  the  brink  of  fury.  By  an  instinctive  movement  he 
had  covered  the  hat-box  with  the  coat.  For  half  a  minute 
the  two  men  stared  upon  each  other  in  silence.  It  was 
not  a  long  interval,  but  it  sufficed  for  Mr.  Rolles;  he  was 
one  of  those  who  think  swiftly  on  dangerous  occasions; 
he  decided  on  a  course  of  action  of  a  singularly  daring 
nature;  and  although  he  felt  he  was  setting  his  life  upon 
the  hazard,  he  was  the  first  to  break  silence. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  he. 

The  Dictator  shivered  slightly,  and  when  he  spoke  his 
voice  was  hoarse. 

"What  do  you  want  here?"  he  asked. 

"I  take  a  particular  interest  in  diamonds,"  replied  Mr. 
Rolles,  with  an  air  of  perfect  self-possession.  "Two 
connoisseurs  should  be  acquainted.  I  have  here  a  trifle 
of  my  own  which  may  perhaps  serve  for  an  introduction." 

And  so  saying,  he  quietly  took  the  case  from  his  pocket, 
showed  the  Rajah's  Diamond  to  the  Dictator  for  an  in- 
stant, and  replaced  it  in  security. 

"It  was  once  your  brother's,"  he  added. 

John  Vandeleur  continued  to  regard  him  with  a  look  of 


138  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

almost  painful  amazement;  but  he  neither  spoke  nor 
moved. 

"I  was  pleased  to  observe,"  resumed  the  young  man, 
"that  we  have  gems  from  the  same  collection." 

The  Dictator's  surprise  overpowered  him. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said;  "I  begin  to  perceive 
that  I  am  growing  old!  I  am  positively  not  prepared  for 
little  incidents  like  this.  But  set  my  mind  at  rest  upon 
one  point:  do  my  eyes  deceive  me,  or  are  you  indeed  a 
parson?" 

"I  am  in  holy  orders,"  answered  Mr.  Holies. 

"Well,"  cried  the  other,  "as  long  as  I  live  I  will  never 
hear  another  word  against  the  cloth!" 

"You  flatter  me,"  said  Mr.  Holies. 

"Pardon  me,"  replied  Vandeleur;  "pardon  me,  young 
man.  You  are  no  coward,  but  it  still  remains  to  be  seen 
whether  you  are  not  the  worst  of  fools.  Perhaps,"  he 
continued,  leaning  back  upon  his  seat,  "perhaps  you  would 
oblige  me  with  a  few  particulars.  I  must  suppose  you 
had  some  object  in  the  stupefying  impudence  of  your 
proceedings,  and  I  confess  I  have  a  curiosity  to  know 
it." 

"It  is  very  simple, "  replied  the  clergyman;  "it  pro- 
ceeds from  my  great  inexperience  of  life." 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  be  persuaded,"  answered  Vandeleur. 

Whereupon  Mr.  Holies  told  him  the  whole  story  of  his 
connection  with  the  Rajah's  Diamond,  from  the  time  he 
found  it  in  Raeburn's  garden  to  the  time  when  he  left 
London  in  the  Flying  Scotchman.  He  added  a  brief  sketch 
of  his  feelings  and  thoughts  during  the  journey,  and 
concluded  in  these  words: 

"When  I  recognized  the  tiara  I  knew  we  were  in  the 
same  attitude  towards  Society,  and  this  inspired  me  with 
a  hope,  which  I  trust  you  will  say  was  not  ill-founded, 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  139 

that  you  might  become  in  some  sense  my  partner  in  the 
difficulties  and,  of  course,  the  profits  of  my  situation.  To 
one  of  your  special  knowledge  and  obviously  great  experi- 
ence the  negotiation  of  the  diamond  would  give  but  little 
trouble,  while  to  me  it  was  a  matter  of  impossibility. 
On  the  other  part,  I  judged  that  I  might  lose  nearly  as 
much  by  cutting  the  diamond,  and  that  not  improbably 
with  an  unskilful  hand,  as  might  enable  me  to  pay  you 
with  proper  generosity  for  your  assistance.  The  subject 
was  a  delicate  one  to  broach;  and  perhaps  I  fell  short  in 
delicacy.  But  I  must  ask  you  to  remember  that  for  me 
the  situation  was  a  new  one,  and  I  was  entirely  unac- 
quainted with  the  etiquette  in  use.  I  believe  without 
vanity  that  I  could  have  married  or  baptized  you  in  a 
very  acceptable  manner;  but  every  man  has  his  own  apti- 
tudes, and  this  sort  of  bargain  was  not  among  the  list  of 
my  accomplishments." 

"I  do  not  wish  to  flatter  you,"  replied  Vandeleur;  "but 
upon  my  word,  you  have  an  unusual  disposition  for  a  life 
of  crime.  You  have  more  accomplishments  than  you 
imagine;  and  though  I  have  encountered  a  number  of 
rogues  in  different  quarters  of  the  world,  I  never  met 
with  one  so  unblushing  as  yourself.  Cheer  up,  Mr.  Rolles, 
you  are  in  the  right  profession  at  last!  As  for  helping 
you,  you  may  command  me  as  you  will.  I  have  only  a 
day's  business  in  Edinburgh  on  a  little  matter  for  my 
brother;  and  once  that  is  concluded,  I  return  to  Paris, 
where  I  usually  reside.  If  you  please,  you  may  accompany 
me  thither.  And  before  the  end  of  a  month  I  believe  I 
shall  have  brought  your  little  business  to  a  satisfactory 
conclusion." 

(At  this  point,  contrary  to  all  the  canons  of  his  artt 
our  Arabian  Author  breaks  off  the  STORY  OF  THE  YOUNG 
MAN  IN  HOLY  ORDERS.  /  regret  and  condemn  such  prao- 


140  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

tices ;  but  I  must  follow  my  original,  and  refer  the  reader 
for  the  conclusion  of  Mr.  Rolles's  adventures  to  the  next 
number  of  the  cycle,  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOUSE  WITH  THE 
GREEN  BLINDS.) 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  HOUSE   WITH  THE 
GREEN  BLINDS 

Francis  Scrymgeour,  a  clerk  in  the  Bank  of  Scotland  at 
Edinburgh,  had  attained  the  age  of  twenty-five  in  a  sphere 
of  quiet,  creditable,  and  domestic  life.  His  mother  died 
while  he  was  young;  but  his  father,  a  man  of  sense  and 
probity,  had  given  him  an  excellent  education  at  school, 
and  brought  him  up  at  home  to  orderly  and  frugal  habits. 
Francis,  who  was  of  a  docile  and  affectionate  disposition, 
profited  by  these  advantages  with  zeal,  and  devoted  him- 
self heart  and  soul  to  his  employment.  A  walk  upon 
Saturday  afternoon,  an  occasional  dinner  with  members  of 
his  family,  and  a  yearly  tour  of  a  fortnight  in  the  High- 
lands or  even  on  the  continent  of  Europe,  were  his  princi- 
pal distractions,  and  he  grew  rapidly  in  favor  with  his 
superiors,  and  enjoyed  already  a  salary  of  nearly  two 
hundred  pounds  a  year,  with  the  prospect  of  an  ultimate 
advance  to  almost  double  that  amount.  Few  young  men 
were  more  contented,  few  more  willing  and  laborious 
than  Francis  Scrymgeour.  Sometimes  at  night,  when  he 
had  read  the  daily  paper,  he  would  play  upon  the  flute  to 
amuse  his  father,  for  whose  qualities  he  entertained  a 
great  respect. 

One  day  he  received  a  note  from  a  well-known  firm  of 
Writers  to  the  Signet,  requesting  the  favor  of  an  imme- 
diate interview  with  him.  The  letter  was  marked  '  'Private 
and  Confidential,"  and  had  been  addressed  to  him  at  the 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  141 

bank,  instead  of  at  home — two  unusual  circumstances 
which  made  him  obey  the  summons  with  the  more  alac- 
rity. The  senior  member  of  the  firm,  a  man  of  much 
austerity  of  manner,  made  him  gravely  welcome,  requested 
him  to  take  a  seat,  and  proceeded  to  explain  the  matter 
in  hand  in  the  picked  expressions  of  a  veteran  man  of 
business.  A  person,  who  must  remain  nameless,  but  of 
whom  the  lawyer  had  every  reason  to  think  well — a  man, 
in  short,  of  some  station  in  the  country — desired  to  make 
Francis  an  annual  allowance  of  five  hundred  pounds.  The 
capital  was  to  be  placed  under  the  control  of  the  lawyer's 
firm  and  two  trustees  who  must  also  remain  anonymous. 
There  were  conditions  annexed  to  this  liberality,  but  he 
was  of  opinion  that  his  new  client  would  find  nothing 
either  excessive  or  dishonorable  in  the  terms;  and  he  re- 
peated these  two  words  with  emphasis,  as  though  he 
desired  to  commit  himself  to  nothing  more. 

Francis  asked  their  nature. 

"The  conditions,"  said  the  Writer  to  the  Signet,  "are, 
as  I  have  twice  remarked,  neither  dishonorable  nor  exces- 
sive. At  the  same  time  I  cannot  conceal  from  you  that 
they  are  most  unusual.  Indeed,  the  whole  case  is  very 
much  out  of  our  way;  and  I  should  certainly  have  refused 
it  had  it  not  been  for  the  reputation  of  the  gentleman 
who  entrusted  it  to  my  care,  and,  let  me  add,  Mr.  Scrym- 
geour,  the  interest  I  have  been  led  to  take  in  yourself  by 
many  complimentary  and,  I  have  no  doubt,  well-deserved 
reports. ' ' 

Francis  entreated  him  to  be  more  specific. 

"You  cannot  picture  my  uneasiness  as  to  these  condi- 
tions," he  said. 

"They  are  two,"  replied  the  lawyer,  "only  two;  and 
the  sum,  as  you  will  remember,  is  five  hundred  a  year— 
and  unburthened,  I  forgot  to  add,  unburdened." 


142  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

And  the  lawyer  raised  his  eyebrows  at  him  with  solemn 
gusto. 

"The  first,"  he  resumed,  "is  of  remarkable  simplicity. 
You  must  be  in  Paris  by  the  afternoon  of  Sunday,  the 
15th;  there  you  will  find,  at  the  box-office  of  the  Comedie 
Francaise,  a  ticket  for  admission  taken  in  your  name  and 
waiting  you.  You  are  requested  to  sit  out  the  whole 
performance  in  the  seat  provided,  and  that  is  all." 

"I  should  certainly  have  preferred  a  week-day, ' '  replied 
Francis.  "But,  after  all,  once  in  a  way — 

"And  in  Paris,  my  dear  sir,"  added  the  lawyer,  sooth- 
ingly. "I  believe  I  am  something  of  a  precisian  myself, 
but  upon  such  a  consideration,  and  in  Paris,  I  should  not 
hesitate  an  instant." 

And  the  pair  laughed  pleasantly  together. 

"The  other  is  of  more  importance,"  continued  the 
Writer  to  the  Signet.  "It  regards  your  marriage.  My 
client,  taking  a  deep  interest  in  your  welfare,  desires  to 
advise  you  absolutely  in  the  choice  of  a  wife.  Absolutely, 
you  understand,"  he  repeated. 

"Let  us  be  more  explicit,  if  you  please,"  returned 
Francis.  "Am  I  to  marry  anyone,  maid  or  widow,  black 
or  white,  whom  this  invisible  person  chooses  to  propose?" 

4  'I  was  to  assure  you  that  suitability  of  age  and  position 
should  be  a  principle  with  your  benefactor,"  replied  the 
lawyer.  "As  to  race,  I  confess  the  difficulty  had  not 
occurred  to  me,  and  I  failed  to  inquire;  but  if  you  like  I 
will  make  a  note  of  it  at  once,  and  advise  you  on  the 
earliest  opportunity." 

"Sir,"  said  Francis,  "it  remains  to  be  seen  whether 
this  whole  affair  is  not  a  most  unworthy  fraud.  The  cir- 
cumstances are  inexplicable — I  had  almost  said  incredible; 
and  until  I  see  a  little  more  daylight,  and  some  plausible 
motive,  I  confess  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  put  a  hand  to 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  143 

the  transaction.  I  appeal  to  you  in  this  difficulty  for 
information.  I  must  learn  what  is  at  the  bottom  of  it 
all.  If  you  do  not  know,  cannot  guess,  or  are  not  at 
liberty  to  tell  me,  I  shall  take  my  hat  and  go  back  to  my 
bank  as  I  came. ' ' 

"I  do  not  know,"  answered  the  lawyer,  "but  I  have  an 
excellent  guess.  Your  father,  and  no  one  else,  is  at  the 
root  of  this  apparently  unnatural  business." 

"My  father!"  cried  Francis,  in  extreme  disdain. 
"Worthy  man,  I  know  every  thought  of  his  mind,  every 
penny  of  his  fortune!" 

"You  misinterpret  my  words, "  said  the  lawyer.  "I 
do  not  refer  to  Mr.  Scrymgeour,  senior;  for  he  is  not  your 
father.  When  he  and  his  wife  came  to  Edinburgh,  you 
were  already  nearly  one  year  old,  and  you  had  not  yet 
been  three  months  in  their  care.  The  secret  has  been  well 
kept;  but  such  is  the  fact.  Your  father  is  unknown,  and 
I  say  again  that  I  believe  him  to  be  the  original  of  the 
offers  I  am  charged  at  present  to  transmit  to  you." 

It  would  be  impossible  to  exaggerate  the  astonishment 
of  Francis  Scrymgeour  at  this  unexpected  information. 
He  pleaded  this  confusion  to  the  lawyer. 

"Sir,"  said  he,  "after  a  piece  of  news  so  startling,  you 
must  grant  me  some  hours  for  thought.  You  shall  know 
this  evening  what  conclusion  I  have  reached." 

The  lawyer  commended  his  prudence;  and  Francis,  ex- 
cusing himself  upon  some  pretext  at  the  bank,  took  a  long 
walk  into  the  country,  and  fully  considered  the  different 
steps  and  aspects  of  the  case.  A  pleasant  sense  of  his 
own  importance  rendered  him  the  more  deliberate;  but 
the  issue  was  from  the  first  not  doubtful.  His  whole 
carnal  man  leaned  irresistibly  towards  the  five  hundred  a 
year,  and  the  strange  conditions  with  which  it  was  bur- 
dened; he  discovered  in  his  heart  an  invincible  repugnance 


144  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

to  the  name  of  Scrymgeour,  which  he  had  never  hitherto 
disliked;  he  began  to  despise  the  narrow  and  unromantic 
interest  of  his  former  life;  and  when  once  his  mind  was 
fairly  made  up,  he  walked  with  a  new  feeling  of  strength 
and  freedom,  and  nourished  himself  with  the  gayest 
anticipations. 

He  said  but  a  word  to  the  lawyer,  and  immediately  re- 
ceived a  check  for  two  quarters'  arrears;  for  the  allowance 
was  ante-dated  from  the  first  of  January.  With  this  in 
his  pocket,  he  walked  home.  The  flat  in  Scotland  Street 
looked  mean  in  his  eyes;  his  nostrils,  for  the  first  time, 
rebelled  against  the  odor  of  broth;  and  he  observed  little 
defects  of  manner  in  his  adoptive  father  which  filled  him 
with  surprise  and  almost  with  disgust.  The  next  day,  he 
determined,  should  see  him  on  his  way  to  Paris. 

In  that  city,  where  he  arrived  long  before  the  appointed 
date,  he  put  up  at  a  modest  hotel  frequented  by  English 
and  Italians,  and  devoted  himself  to  improvement  in  the 
French  tongue;  for  this  purpose  he  had  a  master  twice  a 
week,  entered  into  conversation  with  loiterers  in  the 
Champs  Elysees,  and  nightly  frequented  the  theatre.  He 
had  his  whole  toilette  fashionably  renewed;  and  was 
shaved  and  had  his  hair  dressed  every  morning  by  a 
barber  in  a  neighboring  street.  This  gave  him  something 
of  a  foreign  air,  and  seemed  to  wipe  off  the  reproach  of 
his  past  years. 

At  length,  on  the  Saturday  afternoon,  he  betook  himself 
to  the  box-office  of  the  theatre  in  the  Rue  Richelieu.  No 
sooner  had  he  mentioned  his  name  than  the  clerk  produced 
the  order  in  an  envelope  of  which  the  address  was  scarcely 
dry. 

"It  has  been  taken  this  moment,"  said  the  clerk. 

"Indeed!"  said  Francis.  "May  I  ask  what  the  gentle- 
man was  like?" 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  145 

"Your  friend  is  easy  to  describe,"  replied  the  official. 
"He  is  old  and  strong  and  beautiful,  with  white  hair  and 
a  sabre-cut  across  his  face.  You  cannot  fail  to  recognize 
so  marked  a  person. ' ' 

"No,  indeed,"  returned  Francis;  "and  I  thank  you  for 
your  politeness." 

"He  cannot  yet  be  far  distant,"  added  the  clerk.  "If 
you  make  haste  you  might  still  overtake  him." 

Francis  did  not  wait  to  be  twice  told;  he  ran  precipi- 
tately from  the  theatre  into  the  middle  of  the  street  and 
looked  in  all  directions.  More  than  one  white-haired 
man  was  within  sight;  but  though  he  overtook  each  of 
them  in  succession,  all  wanted  the  sabre-cut.  For  nearly 
half  an  hour  he  tried  one  street  after  another  in  the 
neighborhood,  until  at  length,  recognizing  the  folly  of 
continued  search,  he  started  on  a  walk  to  compose  his 
agitated  feelings;  for  this  proximity  of  an  encounter  with 
him  to  whom  he  could  not  doubt  he  owed  the  day  had 
profoundly  moved  the  young  man. 

It  chanced  that  his  way  lay  up  the  Rue  Drouot  and 
thence  up  the  Rue  des  Martyrs;  and  chance,  in  this  case, 
served  him  better  than  all  the  forethought  in  the  world. 
For  on  the  outer  boulevard  he  saw  two  men  in  earnest 
colloquy  upon  a  seat.  One  was  dark,  young,  and  hand- 
some, secularly  dressed,  but  with  an  indelible  clerical 
stamp;  the  other  answered  in  every  particular  to  the 
description  given  him  by  the  clerk.  Francis  felt  his  heart 
beat  high  in  his  bosom;  he  knew  he  was  now  about  to 
hear  the  voice  of  his  father;  and  making  a  wide  circuit, 
he  noiselessly  took  his  place  behind  the  couple  in  ques- 
tion, who  were  too  much  interested  in  their  talk  to  observe 
much  else.  As  Francis  had  expected,  the  conversation 
was  conducted  in  the  English  language. 

"Your  suspicions  begin  to  annoy  me,  Rolles,"  said  the 


146  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

older  man.  "I  tell  you  I  am  doing  my  utmost;  a  man 
cannot  lay  his  hand  on  millions  in  a  moment.  Have  I  not 
taken  you  up,  a  mere  stranger,  out  of  pure  good-will? 
Are  you  not  living  largely  on  my  bounty?" 

"On  your  advances,  Mr.  Vandeleur,"  corrected  the 
other. 

"Advances,  if  you  choose;  and  interest  instead  of  good- 
will, if  you  prefer  it,"  returned  Vandeleur,  angrily.  "I 
am  not  here  to  pick  expressions.  Business  is  business; 
and  your  business,  let  me  remind  you,  is  too  muddy  for 
such  airs.  Trust  me,  or  leave  me  alone  and  find  someone 
else;  but  let  us  have  an  end,  for  God's  sake,  of  your 
jeremiads. ' ' 

"I  am  beginning  to  learn  the  world,"  replied  the 
other,  "and  I  see  that  you  have  every  reason  to  play  me 
false,  and  not  one  to  deal  honestly.  I  am  not  here  to  pick 
expressions  either;  you  wish  the  diamond  for  yourself: 
you  know  you  do — you  dare  not  deny  it.  Have  you  not 
already  forged  my  name,  and  searched  my  lodging  in  my 
absence?  I  understand  the  cause  of  your  delays;  you  are 
lying  in  wait;  you  are  the  diamond-hunter,  forsooth;  and 
sooner  or  later,  by  fair  means  or  foul,  you'll  lay  your 
hands  upon  it.  I  tell  you,  it  must  stop;  push  me  much 
further  and  I  promise  you  a  surprise. ' ' 

"It  does  not  become  you  to  use  threats,"  returned 
Vandeleur.  "Two  can  play  at  that.  My  brother  is  here 
in  Paris;  the  police  are  on  the  alert;  and  if  you  persist 
in  wearying  me  with  your  caterwauling,  I  will  arrange  a 
little  astonishment  for  you,  Mr.  Rolles.  But  mine  shall 
be  once  and  for  all.  Do  you  understand,  or  would  you 
prefer  me  to  tell  it  you  in  Hebrew?  There  is  an  end  to 
all  things,  and  you  have  come  to  the  end  of  my  patience. 
Tuesday,  at  seven;  not  a  day,  not  an  hour  sooner,  not  the 
least  part  of  a  second,  if  it  were  to  save  your  life.  And 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  147 

if  you  do  not  choose  to  wait,  you  may  go  to  the  bottomless 
pit  for  me,  and  welcome." 

And  so  saying,  the  Dictator  arose  from  the  bench,  and 
marched  off  in  the  direction  of  Montmartre,  shaking  his 
head  and  swinging  his  cane  with  a  most  furious  air; 
while  his  companion  remained  where  he  was,  in  an  attitude 
of  great  dejection. 

Francis  was  at  the  pitch  of  surprise  and  horror;  his 
sentiments  had  been  shocked  to  the  last  degree ;  the  hope- 
ful tenderness  with  which  he  had  taken  his  place  upon  the 
bench  was  transformed  into  repulsion  and  despair;  old 
Mr.  Scrymgeour,  he  reflected,  was  a  far  more  kindly  and 
creditable  parent  than  this  dangerous  and  violent  in- 
triguer; but  he  retained  his  presence  of  mind,  and  suf- 
fered not  a  moment  to  elapse  before  he  was  on  the  trail 
of  the  Dictator. 

That  gentleman's  fury  carried  him  forward  at  a  brisk 
pace,  and  he  was  so  completely  occupied  in  his  angry 
thoughts  that  he  never  so  much  as  cast  a  look  behind  him 
till  he  reached  his  own  door. 

His  house  stood  high  up  in  the  Rue  Lepic,  commanding 
a  view  of  all  Paris  and  enjoying  the  pure  air  of  the 
heights.  It  was  two  stories  high,  with  green  blinds  and 
shutters;  and  all  the  windows  looking  on  the  street  were 
hermetically  closed.  Tops  of  trees  showed  over  the  high 
garden  wall,  and  the  wall  was  protected  by  cheiwuc-de- 
frise.  The  Dictator  paused  a  moment  while  he  searched 
his  pocket  for  a  key;  and  then,  opening  agate,  disappeared 
within  the  enclosure. 

Francis  looked  about  him;  the  neighborhood  was  very 
lonely;  the  house  isolated  in  its  garden.  It  seemed  as  if 
his  observation  must  here  come  to  an  abrupt  end.  A 
second  glance,  however,  showed  him  a  tall  house  next 
door  presenting  a  gable  to  the  garden,  and  in  this  gable 


148  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

a  single  window.  He  passed  to  the  front  and  saw  a  ticket 
offering  unfurnished  lodgings  by  the  month;  and,  on  in- 
quiry, the  room  which  commanded  the  Dictator's  garden 
proved  to  be  one  of  those  to  let.  Francis  did  not  hesitate 
a  moment;  he  took  the  room,  paid  an  advance  upon  the 
rent,  and  returned  to  his  hotel  to  seek  his  baggage. 

The  old  man  with  the  sabre-cut  might  or  might  not  be 
his  father;  he  might  or  he  might  not  be  on  the  true  scent; 
but  he  was  certainly  on  the  edge  of  an  exciting  mystery, 
and  he  promised  himself  that  he  would  not  relax  his 
observation  until  he  had  got  to  the  bottom  of  the  secret. 

From  the  window  of  his  new  apartment  Francis  Scrym- 
geour  commanded  a  complete  view  into  the  garden  of  the 
house  with  the  green  blinds.  Immediately  below  him  a 
very  comely  chestnut  with  wide  boughs  sheltered  a  pair 
of  rustic  tables  where  people  might  dine  in  the  height  of 
summer.  On  all  sides  save  one  a  dense  vegetation  con- 
cealed the  soil:  but  there,  between  the  tables  and  the 
house,  he  saw  a  patch  of  gravel  walk  leading  from  the 
veranda  to  the  garden-gate.  Studying  the  places  from 
between  the  boards  of  the  Venetian  shutter,  which  he 
durst  not  open  for  fear  of  attracting  attention,  Francis 
observed  but  little  to  indicate  the  manners  of  the  inhabi- 
tants, and  that  little  argued  no  more  than  a  close  reserve 
and  a  taste  for  solitude.  The  garden  was  conventual,  the 
house  had  the  air  of  a  prison.  The  green  blinds  were  all 
drawn  down  upon  the  outside;  the  door  into  the  veranda 
was  closed;  the  garden,  as  far  as  he  could  see  it,  was  left 
entirely  to  itself  in  the  evening  sunshine.  A  modest  curl 
of  smoke  from  a  single  chimney  alone  testified  to  the 
presence  of  living  people. 

In  order  that  he  might  not  be  entirely  idle,  and  to  give 
a  certain  color  to  his  way  of  life,  Francis  had  purchased 
Euclid's  Geometry  in  French,  which  he  set  himself  to  copy 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  149 

and  translate  on  the  top  of  his  portmanteau  and  seated  on 
the  floor  against  the  wall ;  for  he  was  equally  without 
chair  or  table.  From  time  to  time  he  would  rise  and  cast 
a  glance  into  the  enclosure  of  the  house  with  the  green 
blinds;  but  the  windows  remained  obstinately  closed  and 
the  garden  empty. 

Only  late  in  the  evening  did  anything  occur  to  reward 
his  continued  attention.  Between  nine  and  ten  the  sharp 
tinkle  of  a  bell  aroused  him  from  a  fit  of  dozing;  and  he 
sprang  to  his  observatory  in  time  to  hear  an  important 
noise  of  locks  being  opened  and  bars  removed,  and  to  see 
Mr.  Vandeleur,  carrying  a  lantern  and  clothed  in  a  flowing 
robe  of  black  velvet  with  a  skull-cap  to  match,  issue  from 
under  the  veranda  and  proceed  leisurely  toward  the  garden- 
gate.  The  sound  of  bolts  and  bars  was  then  repeated ;  and 
a  moment  after  Francis  perceived  the  Dictator  escorting 
into  the  house,  in  the  mobile  light  of  the  lantern,  an 
individual  of  the  lowest  and  most  despicable  appearance. 

Half-an-hour  afterward  the  visitor  was  reconducted  to 
the  street;  and  Mr.  Vandeleur,  setting  his  light  upon  one 
of  the  rustic  tables,  finished  a  cigar  with  great  delibera- 
tion under  the  foliage  of  the  chestnut.  Francis,  peering 
through  a  clear  space  among  the  leaves,  was  able  to  follow 
his  gestures  as  he  threw  away  the  ash  or  enjoyed  a  copious 
inhalation;  and  beheld  a  cloud  upon  the  old  man's  brow 
and  a  forcible  action  of  the  lips,  which  testified  to  some 
deep  and  probably  painful  train  of  thought.  The  cigar 
was  already  almost  at  an  end,  when  the  voice  of  a  young 
girl  was  heard  suddenly  cry  ing  the  hour  from  the  interior 
of  the  house. 

"In  a  moment,"  replied  John  Vandeleur. 

And,  with  that,  he  threw  away  the  stump  and,  taking 
up  the  lantern,  sailed  away  under  the  veranda  for  the 
night.  As  soon  as  the  door  was  closed,  absolute  darkness 


150  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

fell  upon  the  house;  Francis  might  try  his  eyesight  as 
much  as  he  pleased,  he  could  not  detect  so  much  as  a 
single  chink  of  light  below  a  blind;  and  he  concluded, 
with  great  good  sense,  that  the  bed  chambers  were  all 
upon  the  other  side. 

Early  the  next  morning  (for  he  was  early  awake  after 
an  uncomfortable  night  upon  the  floor),  he  saw  cause  to 
adopt  a  different  explanation.  The  blinds  rose,  one  after 
another,  by  means  of  a  spring  in  the  interior,  and  dis- 
closed steel  shutters  such  as  we  see  on  the  front  of  shops; 
these  in  their  turn  were  rolled  up  by  a  similar  contri- 
vance; and  for  the  space  of  about  an  hour,  the  chambers 
were  left  open  to  the  morning  air.  At  the  end  of  that 
time  Mr.  Vandeleur,  with  his  own  hand,  once  more  closed 
the  shutters  and  replaced  the  blinds  from  within. 

While  Francis  was  still  marvelling  at  these  precautions, 
the  door  opened  and  a  young  girl  came  forth  to  look  about 
her  in  the  garden.  It  was  not  two  minutes  before  she 
re-entered  the  house,  but  even  in  that  short  time  he  saw 
enough  to  convince  him  that  she  possessed  the  most  un- 
usual attractions.  His  curiosity  was  not  only  highly 
excited  by  this  incident,  but  his  spirits  were  improved  to 
a  still  more  notable  degree.  The  alarming  manners  and 
more  than  equivocal  life  of  his  father  ceased  from  that 
moment  to  prey  upon  his  mind;  from  that  moment  he 
embraced  his  new  family  with  ardor;  and  whether  the 
young  lady  should  prove  his  sister  or  his  wife,  he  felt 
convinced  she  was  an  angel  in  disguise.  So  much  was 
this  the  case  that  he  was  seized  with  a  sudden  horror 
when  he  reflected  how  little  he  really  knew,  and  how  pos- 
sible it  was  that  he  followed  the  wrong  person  when  he 
followed  Mr.  Vandeleur. 

The  porter,  whom  he  consulted,  could  afford  him  little 
information;  but,  such  as  it  was,  it  had  a  mysterious  and 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  151 

questionable  sound.  The  person  next  door  was  an  English 
gentleman  of  extraordinary  wealth,  and  proportionately 
eccentric  in  his  tastes  and  habits.  He  possessed  great 
collections,  which  he  kept  in  the  house  beside  him;  and 
it  was  to  protect  these  that  he  had  fitted  the  place  with 
steel  shutters,  elaborate  fastenings  and  chevaux-de-frise 
along  the  garden  wall.  He  lived  much  alone,  in  spite  of 
some  strange  visitors  with  whom,  it  seemed,  he  had  busi- 
ness to  transact;  and  there  was  no  one  in  the  house  except 
Mademoiselle  and  an  old  woman  servant. 

"Is  Mademoiselle  his  daughter?"  inquired  Francis. 

"Certainly,"  replied  the  porter.  "Mademoiselle  is  the 
daughter  of  the  house;  and  strange  it  is  to  see  how  she  is 
made  to  work.  For  all  his  riches,  it  is  she  who  goes  to 
market;  and  everyday  in  the  week  you  may  see  her  going 
by  with  a  basket  on  her  arm." 

"And  the  collections?"  asked  the  other. 

"Sir,"  said  the  man,  "they  are  immensely  valuable. 
More  I  cannot  tell  you.  Since  M.  de  Vandeleur's  arrival 
no  one  in  the  quarter  has  so  much  as  passed  the  door. ' ' 

"Suppose  not,"  returned  Francis,  "you  must  surely 
have  some  notion  what  these  famous  galleries  contain.  Is 
it  pictures,  silks,  statues,  jewels,  or  what?" 

"My  faith,  sir,"  said  the  fellow  with  a  shrug,  "it 
might  be  carrots,  and  still  I  could  not  tell  you.  How 
should  I  know?  The  house  is  kept  like  a  garrison,  as  you 
perceive." 

And  then  as  Francis  was  returning  disappointed  to  his 
room,  the  porter  called  him  back. 

"I  have  just  remembered,  sir,"  said  he.  "M.  de 
Vandeleur  has  been  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  and  I  once 
heard  the  old  woman  declare  that  he  had  brought  many 
diamonds  back  with  him.  If  that  be  the  truth,  there 
must  be  a  fine  show  behind  those  shutters." 


\ 

152  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

By  an  early  hour  on  Sunday  Francis  was  in  his  place  at 
the  theatre.  The  seat  which  had  been  taken  for  him  was 
only  two  or  three  numbers  from  the  left-hand  side,  and 
directly  opposite  one  of  the  lower  boxes.  As  the  seat  had 
been  specially  chosen  there  was  doubtless  something  to 
be  learned  from  its  position;  and  he  judged  by  an  instinct 
that  the  box  upon  his  right  was,  in  some  way  or  other,  to 
be  connected  with  the  drama  in  which  he  ignorantly  played 
a  part.  Indeed  it  was  so  situated  that  its  occupants  could 
safely  observe  him  from  beginning  to  end  of  the  piece,  if 
they  were  so  minded ;  while,  profiting  by  the  depth,  they 
could  screen  themselves  sufficiently  well  from  any  counter- 
examination  on  his  side.  He  promised  himself  not  to 
leave  it  for  a  moment  out  of  sight;  and  whilst  he  scanned 
the  rest  of  the  theatre,  or  made  a  show  of  attending  to 
the  business  of  the  stage,  he  always  kept  a  corner  of  an 
eye  upon  the  empty  box. 

The  second  act  had  been  some  time  in  progress,  and 
was  even  drawing  towards  a  close,  when  the  door  opened 
and  two  persons  entered  and  ensconced  themselves  in  the 
darkest  of  the  shade.  Francis  could  hardly  control  his 
emotion.  It  was  Mr.  Vandeleur  and  his  daughter.  The 
blood  came  and  went  in  his  arteries  and  veins  with  stun- 
ning activity;  his  ears  sang;  his  head  turned.  He  dared 
not  look  lest  he  should  awake  suspicion;  his  play-bill, 
which  he  kept  reading  from  end  to  end  and  over  and  over 
again,  turned  from  white  to  red  before  his  eyes;  and 
when  he  cast  a  glance  upon  the  stage,  it  seemed  incalcu- 
lably far  away,  and  he  found  the  voices  and  gestures  of 
the  actors  to  the  last  degree  impertinent  and  absurd. 

From  time  to  time  he  risked  a  momentary  look  in  the 
direction  which  principally  arrested  him;  and  once  at 
least  he  felt  certain  that  his  eyes  encountered  those  of 
the  young  girl.  A  shock  passed  over  his  body,  and  he 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  153 

saw  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow.  What  would  he  not 
have  given  to  overhear  what  passed  between  the  Vande- 
leurs?  What  would  he  not  have  given  for  the  courage  to 
take  up  his  opera-glass  and  steadily  inspect  their  attitude 
and  expression?  There,  for  aught  he  knew,  his  whole 
life  was  being  decided — and  he  not  able  to  interfere,  not 
able  even  to  follow  the  debate,  but  condemned  to  sit  and 
suffer  where  he  was,  in  impotent  anxiety. 

At  last  the  act  came  to  an  end.  The  curtain  fell,  and 
the  people  around  him  began  to  leave  their  places  for  the 
interval.  It  was  only  natural  that  he  should  follow  their 
example;  and  if  he  did  so,  it  was  not  only  natural  but 
necessary  that  he  should  pass  immediately  in  front  of  the 
box  in  question.  Summoning  all  his  courage,  but  keeping 
his  eyes  lowered,  Francis  drew  near  the  spot.  His  progress 
was  slow,  for  the  old  gentleman  before  him  moved  with 
incredible  deliberation,  wheezing  as  he  went.  What  was 
he  to  do?  Should  he  address  the  Vandeleurs  by  name  as 
he  went  by?  Should  he  take  the  flower  from  his  button- 
hole and  throw  it  into  the  box?  Should  he  raise  his  face 
and  direct  one  long  and  affectionate  look  upon  the  lady 
who  was  either  his  sister  or  his  betrothed?  As  he  found 
himself  thus  struggling  among  so  many  alternatives,  he 
had  a  vision  of  his  old  equable  existence  in  the  bank,  and 
was  assailed  by  a  thought  of  regret  for  the  past. 

By  this  time  he  had  arrived  directly  opposite  the  box; 
and  although  he  was  still  undetermined  what  to  do  or 
whether  to  do  anything,  he  turned  his  head  and  lifted  his 
eyes.  No  sooner  had  he  done  so  than  he  uttered  a  cry  of 
disappointment  and  remained  rooted  to  the  spot.  The 
box  was  empty.  During  his  slow  advance  Mr.  Vandeleur 
and  his  daughter  had  quietly  slipped  away. 

A  polite  person  in  his  rear  reminded  him  that  he  was 
stopping  the  path;  and  he  moved  on  again  with  mechan- 


154  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

ical  footsteps,  and  suffered  the  crowd  to  carry  him  un- 
resisting out  of  the  theatre.  Once  in  the  street,  the 
pressure  ceasing,  he  came  to  a  halt,  and  the  cool  night 
air  speedily  restored  him  to  the  possession  of  his  faculties. 
He  was  surprised  to  find  that  his  head  ached  violently,  and 
that  he  remembered  not  one  word  of  the  two  acts  which 
he  had  witnessed.  As  the  excitement  wore  away,  it  was 
succeeded  by  an  overweening  appetite  for  sleep,  and  he 
hailed  a  cab  and  drove  to  his  lodging  in  a  state  of  extreme 
exhaustion  and  some  disgust  of  life. 

Next  morning  he  lay  in  wait  for  Miss  Vandeleur  on  her 
road  to  market,  and  by  eight  o'clock  beheld  her  stepping 
down  a  lane.  She  was  simply,  and  even  poorly,  attired ; 
but  in  the  carriage  of  her  head  and  body  there  was  some- 
thing flexible  and  noble  that  would  have  lent  distinction 
to  the  meanest  toilette.  Even  her  basket,  so  aptly  did 
she  carry  it,  became  her  like  an  ornament.  It  seemed  to 
Francis,  as  he  slipped  into  a  doorway,  that  the  sunshine 
followed  and  the  shadows  fled  before  her  as  she  walked ; 
and  he  was  conscious,  for  the  first  time,  of  a  bird  singing 
in  a  cage  above  the  lane. 

He  suffered  her  to  pass  the  doorway,  and  then,  coming 
forth  once  more,  addressed  her  by  name  from  behind. 

"Miss  Vandeleur,"  said  he. 

She  turned  and,  when  she  saw  who  he  was,  became 
deadly  pale. 

"Pardon  me,"  he  continued;  "Heaven  knows  I  had  no 
will  to  startle  you;  and,  indeed,  there  should  be  nothing 
startling  in  the  presence  of  one  who  wishes  you  so  well  as 
I  do.  And,  believe  me,  I  am  acting  rather  from  necessity 
than  choice.  We  have  many  things  in  common,  and  I  am 
sadly  in  the  dark.  There  is  much  that  I  should  be  doing, 
and  my  hands  are  tied.  I  do  not  know  even  what  to  feel, 
nor  who  are  my  friends  and  enemies." 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  155 

She  found  her  voice  with  an  effort. 

"I  do  not  know  who  you  are,"  she  said. 

"Ah,  yes!  Miss  Vandeleur,  you  do,"  returned  Francis; 
"better  than  I  do  myself.  Indeed  it  is  on  that,  above 
all,  that  I  seek  light.  Tell  me  what  you  know,"  he 
pleaded.  "Tell  me  who  I  am,  who  you  are,  and  how  our 
destinies  are  intermixed.  Give  me  a  little  help  with  my 
life,  Miss  Vandeleur — only  a  word  or  two  to  guide  me, 
only  the  name  of  my  father,  if  you  will — and  I  shall  be 
grateful  and  content." 

"I  will  not  attempt  to  deceive  you,"  she  replied.  "I 
know  who  you  are,  but  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  say." 

"Tell  me,  at  least,  that  you  have  forgiven  my  presump- 
tion, and  I  shall  wait  with  all  the  patience  I  have, ' '  he 
said.  "If  I  am  not  to  know,  I  must  do  without.  It  is 
cruel,  but  I  can  bear  more  upon  a  push.  Only  do  not  add 
to  my  troubles  the  thought  that  I  have  made  an  enemy 
of  you." 

"You  did  only  what  was  natural,"  she  said,  "and  I 
have  nothing  to  forgive  you.  Farewell." 

"Is  it  to  be  farewell  ?"  he  asked. 

"Nay,  that  I  do  not  know  myself,"  she  answered. 
"Farewell  for  the  present,  if  you  like." 

And  with  these  words  she  was  gone. 

Francis  returned  to  his  lodging  in  a  state  of  consider- 
able commotion  of  mind.  He  made  the  most  trifling 
progress  with  his  Euclid  for  that  forenoon,  and  was  more 
often  at  the  window  than  at  his  improvised  writing-table. 
But  beyond  seeing  the  return  of  Miss  Vandeleur,  and  the 
meeting  between  her  and  her  father,  who  was  smoking 
a  Trichinopoli  cigar  in  the  veranda,  there  was  nothing 
notable  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  house  with  the  green 
blinds  before  the  time  of  the  mid-day  meal.  The  young 
man  hastily  allayed  his  appetite  in  a  neighboring  restau- 


156  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

rant,  and  returned  with  the  speed  of  unallayed  curiosity 
to  the  house  in  the  Rue  Lepic.  A  mounted  servant  was 
leading  a  saddle-horse  to  and  fro  before  the  garden  wall; 
and  the  porter  of  Francis's  lodging  was  smoking  a  pipe 
against  the  door-post,  absorbed  in  contemplation  of  the 
livery  and  the  steeds. 

"Look!"  he  cried  to  the  young  man,  "what  fine  cattle! 
what  an  elegant  costume !  They  belong  to  the  brother  of 
M.  de  Vandeleur,  who  is  now  within  upon  a  visit.  He 
is  a  great  man,  a  general,  in  your  country;  and  you 
doubtless  know  him  well  by  reputation." 

"I  confess,"  returned  Francis,  "that  I  have  never  heard 
of  General  Vandeleur  before.  We  have  many  officers 
of  that  grade,  and  my  pursuits  have  been  exclusively 
civil." 

"It  is  he,"  replied  the  porter,  "who  lost  the  great 
diamond  of  the  Indies.  Of  that  at  least  you  must  have 
read  often  in  the  papers." 

As  soon  as  Francis  could  disengage  himself  from  the 
porter  he  ran  up-stairs  and  hurried  to  the  window.  Im- 
mediately below  the  clear  space  in  the  chestnut  leaves,  the 
two  gentlemen  were  seated  in  conversation,  over  a  cigar. 
The  General,  a  red,  military-looking  .man,  offered  some 
traces  of  a  family  resemblance  to  his  brother;  he  had 
something  of  the  same  features,  something,  although  very 
little,  of  the  same  free  and  powerful  carriage;  but  he  was 
older,  smaller,  and  more  common  in  air;  his  likeness  was 
that  of  a  caricature,  and  he  seemed  altogether  a  poor  and 
debile  being  by  the  side  of  the  Dictator. 

They  spoke  in  tones  so  low,  leaning  over  the  table  with 
every  appearance  of  interest,  that  Francis  could  catch  no 
more  than  a  word  or  two  on  an  occasion.  For  as  little  as 
he  heard,  he  was  convinced  that  the  conversation  turned 
upon  himself  and  his  own  career;  several  times  the  name 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  157 

of  Scrymgeour  reached  his  ear,  for  it  was  easy  to  dis- 
tinguish, and  still  more  frequently  he  fancied  he  could 
distinguish  the  name  Francis. 

At  length  the  General,  as  if  in  a  hot  anger,  broke  forth 
into  several  violent  exclamations. 

"Francis  Vandeleur!"  he  cried,  accentuating  the  last 
word.  "Francis  Vandeleur,  I  tell  you." 

The  Dictator  made  a  movement  of  his  whole  body, 
half  affirmative,  half  contemptuous,  but  his  answer  was 
inaudible  to  the  young  man. 

Was  he  the  Francis. Vandeleur  in  question?  he  wondered. 
Were  they  discussing  the  name  under  which  he  was  to  be 
married?  Or  was  the  whole  affair  a  dream  and  a  delusion 
of  his  own  conceit  and  self-absorption? 

After  another  interval  of  inaudible  talk,  dissension 
seemed  again  to  arise  between  the  couple  underneath  the 
chestnut,  and  again  the  General  raised  his  voice  angrily 
so  as  to  be  audible  to  Francis. 

"My  wife?"  he  cried.  "I  have  done  with  my  wife  for 
good.  I  will  not  hear  her  name.  I  am  sick  of  her  very 
name." 

And  he  swore  aloud  and  beat  the  table  with  his  fist. 

The  Dictator  appeared,  by  his  gestures,  to  pacify  him 
after  a  paternal  fashion;  and  a  little  after  he  conducted 
him  to  the  garden-gate.  The  pair  shook  hands  affection- 
ately enough;  but  as  soon  as  the  door  had  closed  behind 
his  visitor,  John  Vandeleur  fell  into  a  fit  of  laughter 
which  sounded  unkindly  and  even  devilish  in  the  ears  of 
Francis  Scrymgeour. 

So  another  day  had  passed,  and  little  more  learnt.  But 
the  young  man  remembered  that  the  morrow  was  Tuesday, 
and  promised  himself  some  curious  discoveries;  all  might 
be  well,  or  all  might  be  ill;  he  was  sure,  at  least,  to  glean 
some  curious  information,  and,  perhaps,  by  good  luck, 


158  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

get  at  the  heart  of  the  mystery  which  surrounded  his 
father  and  his  family. 

As  the  hour  of  the  dinner  drew  near  many  preparations 
were  made  in  the  garden  of  the  house  with  the  green 
blinds.  The  table  which  was  partly  visible  to  Francis 
through  the  chestnut  leaves  was  destined  to  serve  as  a 
sideboard,  and  carried  relays  of  plates  and  the  materials 
for  salad:  the  other,  which  was  almost  entirely  concealed, 
had  been  set  apart  for  the  diners,  and  Francis  could  catch 
glimpses  of  white  cloth  and  silver  plate. 

Mr.  Rolles  arrived,  punctual  to  the  minute;  he  looked 
like  a  man  upon  his  guard,  and  spoke  low  and  sparingly. 
The  Dictator,  on  the  other  hand,  appeared  to  enjoy  an 
unusual  flow  of  spirits;  his  laugh,  which  was  youthful  and 
pleasant  to  hear,  sounded  frequently  from  the  garden; 
by  the  modulation  and  the  changes  of  his  voice  it  was 
obvious  that  he  told  many  droll  stories  and  imitated  the 
accents  of  a  variety  of  different  nations:  and  before  he 
and  the  young  clergyman  had  finished  their  vermouth  all 
feeling  of  distrust  was  at  an  end,  and  they  were  talking 
together  like  a  pair  of  school  companions. 

At  length  Miss  Vandeleur  made  her  appearance,  carry- 
ing the  soup-tureen.  Mr.  Rolles  ran  to  offer  her  assist- 
ance, which  she  laughingly  refused;  and  there  was  an 
interchange  of  pleasantries  among  the  trio  which  seemed 
to  have  reference  to  this  primitive  manner  of  waiting  by 
one  of  the  company. 

"One  is  more  at  one's  ease,"  Mr.  Vandeleur  was  heard 
to  declare. 

Next  moment  they  were  all  three  in  their  places,  and 
Francis  could  see  as  little  as  he  could  hear  of  what  passed ; 
but  the  dinner  seemed  to  go  merrily ;  there  was  a  perpetual 
babble  of  voices  and  sound  of  knives  and  forks  below  the 
chestnut;  and  Francis,  who  had  no  more  than  a  roll  to 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  159 

gnaw,  was  affected  with  envy  by  the  comfort  and  delib- 
eration of  the  meal.  The  party  lingered  over  one  dish 
after  another,  and  then  over  a  delicate  dessert,  with  a 
bottle  of  old  wine  carefully  uncorked  by  the  hand  of  the 
Dictator  himself.  As  it  began  to  grow  dark  a  lamp  was 
set  upon  the  table  and  a  couple  of  candles  on  the  side- 
board; for  the  night  was  perfectly  pure,  starry,  and  wind- 
less. Light  overflowed  besides  from  the  door  and  window 
in  the  veranda,  so  that  the  garden  was  fairly  illuminated 
and  the  leaves  twinkled  in  the  darkness. 

For  perhaps  the  tenth  time  Miss  Vandeleur  entered  the 
house;  and  on  this  occasion  she  returned  with  the  coffee 
tray,  which  she  placed  upon  the  sideboard.  At  the  same 
moment  her  father  rose  from  his  seat. 

"The  coffee  is  my  province,"  Francis  heard  him  say. 

And  next  moment  he  saw  his  supposed  father  standing 
by  the  sideboard  in  the  light  of  the  candles. 

Talking  over  his  shoulder  all  Jthe  while,  Mr.  Vandeleur 
poured  out  two  cups  of  the  brown  stimulant,  and  then,  by 
a  rapid  act  of  prestidigitation,  emptied  the  contents  of  a 
tiny  phial  into  the  smaller  one  of  the  two.  The  thing 
was  so  swiftly  done  that  even  Francis,  who  looked  straight 
into  his  face,  had  hardly  time  to  perceive  the  movement 
before  it  was  completed.  And  next  instant,  and  still 
laughing,  Mr.  Vandeleur  had  turned  again  towards  the 
table  with  a  cup  in  either  hand. 

"We  have  done  with  this,"  said  he,  "we  may  expect 
our  famous  Hebrew. ' ' 

It  would  be  impossible  to  depict  the  confusion  and  dis- 
tress of  Francis  Scrymgeour.  He  saw  foul  play  going 
forward  before  his  eyes,  and  he  felt  bound  to  interfere, 
but  knew  not  how.  It  might  be  a  mere  pleasantry,  and 
then  how  should  he  look  if  he  were  to  offer  an  unnecessary 
warning?  Or  again,  if  it  were  serious,  the  criminal 


160  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

might  be  his  own  father,  and  then  how  should  he  not 
lament  if  he  were  to  bring  ruin  on  the  author  of  his  days? 
For  the  first  time  he  became  conscious  of  his  own  position 
as  a  spy.  To  wait  inactive  at  such  a  juncture  and  with 
such  a  conflict  of  sentiments  in  his  bosom  was  to  suffer 
the  most  acute  torture;  he  clung  to  the  bars  of  the  shut- 
ters, his  heart  beat  fast  and  with  irregularity,  and  he  felt 
a  strong  sweat  break  forth  upon  his  body. 

Several  minutes  passed. 

He  seemed  to  perceive  the  conversation  die  away  and 
grow  less  and  less  in  vivacity  and  volume;  but  still  no 
sign  of  any  alarming  or  even  notable  event. 

Suddenly  the  ring  of  a  glass  breaking  was  followed  by 
a  faint  and  dull  sound,  as  of  a  person  who  should  have 
fallen  forward  with  his  head  upon  the  table.  At  the  same 
moment  a  piercing  scream  rose  from  the  garden. 

"What  have  you  done?"  cried  Miss  Vandeleur.  "He 
is  dead!" 

The  Dictator  replied  in  a  violent  whisper,  so  strong  and 
sibilant  that  every  word  was  audible  to  the  watcher  at 
the  window. 

"Silence!"  said  Mr.  Vandeleur;  "the  man  is  as  well 
as  I  am.  Take  him  by  the  heels  whilst  I  carry  him  by 
the  shoulders." 

Francis  heard  Miss  Vandeleur  break  forth  into  a  passion 
of  tears. 

"Do  you  hear  what  I  say?"  resumed  the  Dictator,  in 
the  same  tones.  "Or  do  you  wish  to  quarrel  with  me? 
I  give  you  your  choice,  Miss  Vandeleur. ' ' 

There  was  another  pause,  and  the  Dictator  spoke 
again. 

"Take  that  man  by  the  heels,"  he  said.  "I  must  have 
him  brought  into  the  house.  If  I  were  a  little  younger,  I 
could  help  myself  against  the  world.  But  now  that  years 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  161 

and  dangers  are  upon  me  and  my  hands  are  weakened,  I 
must  turn  to  you  for  aid." 

"It  is  a  crime,"  replied  the  girl. 

"I  am  your  father,"  said  Mr.  Vandeleur. 

This  appeal  seemed  to  produce  its  effect.  A  scuffling 
noise  followed  upon  the  gravel,  a  chair  was  overset,  and 
then  Francis  saw  the  father  and  daughter  stagger  across 
the  walk  and  disappear  under  the  veranda,  bearing  the 
inanimate  body  of  Mr.  Holies  embraced  about  the  knees 
and  shoulders.  The  young  clergyman  was  limp  and  pallid, 
and  his  head  rolled  upon  his  shoulders  at  every  step. 

Was  he  alive  or  dead  ?  Francis,  in  spite  of  the  Dictator's 
declaration,  inclined  to  the  latter  view.  A  great  crime 
had  been  committed;  a  great  calamity  had  fallen  upon  the 
inhabitants  of  the  house  with  the  green  blinds.  To  his 
surprise,  Francis  found  all  horror  for  the  deed  swallowed 
up  in  sorrow  for  a  girl  and  an  old  man  whom  he  judged 
to  be  in  the  height  of  peril.  A  tide  of  generous  feeling 
swept  into  his  heart;  he,  too,  would  help  his  father  against 
man  and  mankind,  against  fate  and  justice;  and  casting 
open  the  shutters  he  closed  his  eyes  and  threw  himself 
with  outstretched  arms  into  the  foliage  of  the  chestnut. 

Branch  after  branch  slipped  from  his  grasp  or  broke 
under  his  weight;  then  he  caught  a  stalwart  bough  under 
his  armpit,  and  hung  suspended  for  a  second;  and  then  he 
let  himself  drop  and  fell  heavily  against  the  table.  A  cry 
of  alarm  from  the  house  warned  him  that  his  entrance 
had  not  been  effected  unobserved.  He  recovered  himself 
with  a  stagger,  and  in  three  bounds  crossed  the  interven- 
ing space  and  stood  before  the  door  in  the  veranda. 

In  a  small  apartment,  carpeted  with  matting  and  [sur- 
rounded by  glazed  cabinets  full  of  rare  and  costly  curios, 
Mr.  Vandeleur  was  stooping  over  the  body  of  Mr.  Rolles. 
He  raised  himself  as  Francis  entered,  and  there  was  an 


162  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

instantaneous  passage  of  hands.  It  was  the  business  of  a 
second ;  as  fast  as  an  eye  can  wink  the  thing  was  dome ; 
the  young  man  had  not  the  time  to  be  sure,  but  it  seemed 
to  him  as  if  the  Dictator  had  taken  something  from  the 
curate's  breast,  looked  at  it  for  the  least  fraction  of  time 
as  it  lay  in  his  hand,  and  then  suddenly  and  swiftly  passed 
it  to  his  daughter. 

All  this  was  over  while  Francis  had  still  one  foot  upon 
the  threshold,  and  the  other  raised  in  air.  The  next 
instant  he  was  on  his  knees  to  Mr.  Vandeleur. 

"Father !"  he  cried.  "Let  me,  too,  help  you.  I  will  do 
what  you  wish  and  ask  no  questions;  I  will  obey  you  witk 
my  life;  treat  me  as  a  son,  and  you  will  find  I  have  a  son's 
devotion. ' ' 

A  deplorable  explosion  of  oaths  was  the  Dictator's  first 
reply. 

"Son  and  Father?"  he  cried.  "Father  and  son?  What 
d — d  unnatural  comedy  is  all  this?  How  do  you  come 
in  my  garden?  What  do  you  want?  And  who,  in  God's 
name,  are  you?" 

Francis,  with  a  stunned  and  shamefaced  aspect,  got 
upon  his  feet  again,  and  stood  in  silence. 

Then  a  light  seemed  to  break  upon  Mr.  Vandeleur,  and 
he  laughed  aloud. 

"I  see,"  cried  he.  "It  is  the  Scrymgeour.  Very  well, 
Mr.  Scrymgeour.  Let  me  tell  you  in  a  few  words  how 
you  stand.  You  have  entered  my  private  residence  by 
force,  or  perhaps  by  fraud,  but  certainly  with  no  encour- 
agement from  me;  and  you  come  at  a  moment  of  some 
annoyance,  a  guest  having  fainted  at  my  table,  to  besiege 
me  with  your  protestations.  You  are  no  son  of  mine. 
You  are  my  brother's  bastard  by  a  fishwife,  if  you  want 
to  know.  I  regard  you  with  an  indifference  closely  bor- 
dering on  aversion;  and  from  what  I  now  see  of  your 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  163 

conduct,  I  judge  your  mind  to  be  exactly  suitable  to  your 
exterior.  I  recommend  you  these  mortifying  reflections 
for  your  leisure;  and,  in  the  meantime,  let  me  beseech 
you  to  rid  us  of  your  presence.  If  I  were  not  occupied," 
added  the  Dictator,  with  a  terrifying  oath,  "I  should  give 
you  the  unholiest  drubbing  ere  you  went!" 

Francis  listened  in  profound  humiliation.  He  would 
have  fled  had  it  been  possible;  but  as  he  had  no  means  of 
leaving  the  residence  into  which  he  had  so  unfortunately 
penetrated,  he  could  do  no  more  than  stand  foolishly 
where  he  was. 

It  was  Miss  Vandeleur  who  broke  the  silence. 

"Father,"  she  said,  "you  speak  in  anger.  Mr.  Scrym- 
geour  may  have  been  mistaken,  but  he  meant  well  and 
kindly." 

"Thank  you  for  speaking,"  returned  the  Dictator. 
"You  remind  me  of  some  other  observations  which  I  hold 
it  a  point  of  honor  to  make  to  Mr.  Scrymgeour.  My 
brother,"  he  continued,  addressing  the  young  man,  "has 
been  foolish  enough  to  give  you  an  allowance;  he  was 
foolish  enough  and  presumptuous  enough  to  propose  a 
match  between  you  and  this  young  lady.  You  were  ex- 
hibited to  her  two  nights  ago;  and  I  rejoice  to  tell  you 
that  she  rejected  the  idea  with  disgust.  Let  me  add  that 
I  have  considerable  influence  with  your  father;  and  it 
shall  not  be  my  fault  if  you  are  not  beggared  of  your 
allowance  and  sent  back  to  your  scrivening  ere  the  week 
be  out." 

The  tones  of  the  old  man's  voice  were,  if  possible,  more 
wounding  than  his  language;  Francis  felt  himself  ex- 
posed to  the  most  cruel,  blighting,  and  unbearable  con- 
tempt; his  head  turned,  and  he  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands,  uttering  at  the  same  time  a  tearless  sob  of  agony. 
But  Miss  Vandeleur  once  again  interfered  in  his  behalf. 


164  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"Mr.  Scrymgeour,"  she  said,  speaking  in  clear  and 
even  tones,  "you  must  not  be  concerned  at  my  father's 
harsh  expressions.  I  felt  no  disgust  for  you;  on  the 
contrary,  I  asked  an  opportunity  to  make  your  better 
acquaintance.  As  for  what  has  passed  to-night,  be- 
lieve me  it  has  filled  my  mind  with  both  pity  and  es- 
teem." 

Just  then  Mr.  Holies  made  a  convulsive  movement 
with  his  arm,  which  convinced  Francis  that  he  was  only 
drugged,  and  was  beginning  to  throw  off  the  influence  of 
the  opiate.  Mr.  Vandeleur  stooped  over  him  and  exam- 
ined his  face  for  an  instant. 

"Come,  come!"  cried  he,  raising  his  head.  "Let  there 
be  an  end  of  this.  And  since  you  are  so  pleased  with  his 
conduct,  Miss  Vandeleur,  take  a  candle  and  show  the 
bastard  out." 

The  young  lady  hastened  to  obey. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Francis,  as  soon  as  he  was  alone 
with  her  in  the  garden.  "I  thank  you  from  my  soul. 
This  has  been  the  bitterest  evening  of  my  life,  but  it  will 
have  always  one  pleasant  recollection." 

"I  spoke  as  I  felt,"  she  replied,  "and  in  justice  to  you. 
It  made  my  heart  sorry  that  you  should  be  so  unkindly 
used." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  garden  gate;  and 
Miss  Vandeleur,  having  set  the  candle  on  the  ground,  was 
already  unfastening  the  bolts. 

"One  word  more,"  said  Francis.  "This  is  not  for  the 
last  time — I  shall  see  you  again,  shall  I  not?" 

"Alas!"  she  answered.  "You  have  heard  my  father. 
What  can  I  do  but  obey?" 

"Tell  me  at  least  that  it  is  not  with  your  consent," 
returned  Francis;  "tell  me  that  you  have  no  wish  to  see 
the  last  of  me." 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  165 

"Indeed,"  replied  she,  "I  have  none.  You  seem  to  me 
both  brave  and  honest. ' ' 

"Then,"  said  Francis,  "give  me  a  keepsake.'* 

She  paused  for  a  moment,  with  her  hand  upon  the  key; 
for  the  various  bars  and  bolts  were  all  undone,  and  there 
was  nothing  left  but  to  open  the  lock. 

"If  I  agree,"  she  said,  "will  you  promise  to  do  as  I  tell 
you  from  point  to  point?" 

"Can  you  ask?"  replied  Francis.  "I  would  do  so  will- 
ingly on  your  bare  word." 

She  turned  the  key  and  threw  open  the  door. 

"Be  it  so,"  said  she.  "You  do  not  know  what  you 
ask,  but  be  it  so.  Whatever  you  hear,"  she  continued, 
"whatever  happens,  do  not  return  to  this  house;  hurry 
fast  until  you  reach  the  lighted  and  populous  quarters  of 
the  city;  even  there  be  upon  your  guard.  You  are  in  a 
greater  danger  than  you  fancy.  Promise  me  you  will  not 
so  much  as  look  at  any  keepsake  until  you  are  in  a  place 
of  safety." 

"I  promise,"  replied  Francis. 

She  put  something  loosely  wrapped  in  a  handkerchief 
into  the  young  man's  hand;  and  at  the  same  time,  with 
more  strength  than  he  could  have  anticipated,  she  pushed 
him  into  the  street. 

"Now,  run!"  she  cried. 

He  heard  the  door  close  behind  him,  and  the  noise  of 
the  bolts  being  replaced. 

"My  faith,"  said  he,  "since  I  have  promised!" 

And  he  took  to  his  heels  down  the  lane  that  leads  into 
the  Rue  Ravignan. 

He  was  not  fifty  paces  from  the  house  with  the  green 
blinds  when  the  most  diabolical  outcry  suddenly  arose  out 
of  the  stillness  of  the  night.  Mechanically  he  stood  still; 
another  passenger  followed  his  example;  in  the  neigh- 


166  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

boring  floors  he  saw  people  crowding  to  the  windows;  a 
conflagration  could  not  have  produced  more  disturbance 
in  this  empty  quarter.  And  yet  it  seemed  to  be  all  the 
work  of  a  single  man,  roaring  between  grief  and  rage, 
like  a  lioness  robbed  of  her  whelps;  and  Francis  was  sur- 
prised and  alarmed  to  hear  his  own  name  shouted  with 
English  imprecat'ons  to  the  wind. 

His  first  movenent  was  to  return  to  the  house;  his 
second,  as  he  remembered  Miss  Vandeleur's  advice,  to 
continue  his  flight  with  greater  expedition  than  before; 
and  he  was  in  the  act  of  turning  to  put  his  thought  in 
action,  when  the  Dictator,  bareheaded,  bawling  aloud, 
his  white  hair  blowing  about  his  head,  shot  past  him  like 
a  ball  out  of  the  cannon's  mouth,  and  went  careering 
down  the  street. 

"That  was  a  close  shave,"  thought  Francis  to  himself. 
"What  he  wants  with  me,  and  why  he  should  be  so 
disturbed,  I  cannot  think;  but  he  is  plainly  not  good 
company  for  the  moment,  and  I  cannot  do  better  than 
follow  Miss  Vandeleur's  advice. ' ' 

So  saying,  he  turned  to  retrace  his  steps,  thinking  to 
double  and  descend  by  the  Rue  Lepic  itself  while  his 
pursuer  should  continue  to  follow  after  him  on  the  other 
line  of  street.  The  plan  was  ill-advised:  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  he  should  have  taken  his  seat  in  the  nearest  cafe, 
and  waited  there  until  the  first  heat  of  the  pursuit  was 
over.  But  besides  that  Francis  had  no  experience  and 
little  natural  aptitude  for  the  small  war  of  private  life, 
he  was  so  unconscious  of  any  evil  on  his  part,  that  he  saw 
nothing  to  fear  beyond  a  disagreeable  interview.  And  to 
disagreeable  interviews  he  felt  he  had  already  served  his 
apprenticeship  that  evening;  nor  could  he  suppose  that 
Miss  Vandeleur  had  left  anything  unsaid.  Indeed,  the 
young  man  was  sore  both  in  body  and  mind — the  one  was 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  167 

all  bruised,  the  other  was  full  of  smarting  arrows;  and  he 
owned  to  himself  that  Mr.  Vandeleur  was  master  of  a 
very  deadly  tongue. 

The  thought  of  his  bruises  reminded  him  that  he  had 
not  only  come  without  a  hat,  but  that  his  clothes  had 
considerably  suffered  in  his  descent  through  the  chestnut. 
At  the  first  magazine  he  purchased  a  cheap  wide-awake, 
and  had  the  disorder  of  his  toilet  summarily  repaired. 
The  keepsake,  still  rolled  in  the  handkerchief,  he  thrust 
in  the  meanwhile  into  his  trousers  pocket. 

Not  many  steps  beyond  the  shop  he  was  conscious  of  a 
sudden  shock,  a  hand  upon  his  throat,  an  infuriated  face 
close  to  his  own,  and  an  open  mouth  bawling  curses  in 
his  ear.  The  Dictator,  having  found  no  trace  of  his 
quarry,  was  returning  by  the  other  way.  Francis  was 
a  stalwart  young  fellow;  but  he  was  no  match  for  his 
adversary  whether  in  strength  or  skill;  and  after  a  few 
ineffectual  struggles  he  resigned  himself  entirely  to  his 
captor. 

"What  do  you  want  with  me?" 

"We  will  talk  of  that  at  home,"  returned  the  Dictator, 
grimly. 

And  he  continued  to  march  the  young  man  up  hill  in 
the  direction  of  the  house  with  the  green  blinds. 

But  Francis,  although  he  no  longer  struggled,  was  only 
waiting  an  opportunity  to  make  a  bold  push  for  freedom. 
With  a  sudden  jerk  he  left  the  collar  of  his  coat  in  the 
hands  of  Mr.  Vandeleur,  and  once  more  made  off  at  his 
best  speed  in  the  direction  of  the  Boulevards. 

The  tables  were  now  turned.  If  the  Dictator  was  the 
stronger,  Francis,  in  the  top  of  his  youth,  was  the  more 
fleet  of  foot,  and  he  had  soon  effected  his  escape  among 
the  crowds.  Relieved  for  a  moment,  but  with  a  growing 
sentiment  of  alarm  and  wonder  in  his  mind,  he  walked 


168  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

briskly  until  he  debouched  upon  the  Place  de  1'Opera,  lit 
up  like  day  with  electric  lamps. 

"This,  at  least,"  thought  he,  "should  satisfy  Miss 
Vandeleur." 

And  turning  to  his  right  along  the  Boulevards,  he 
entered  the  Cafe  Americain  and  ordered  some  beer.  It 
was  both  late  and  early  for  the  majority  of  the  frequent- 
ers of  the  establishment.  Only  two  or  three  persons,  all 
men,  were  dotted  here  and  there  at  separate  tables  in  the 
hall;  and  Francis  was  too  much  occupied  by  his  own 
thoughts  to  observe  their  presence. 

He  drew  the  handkerchief  from  his  pocket.  The  object 
wrapped  in  it  proved  to  be  a  morocco  case,  clasped  and 
ornamented  in  gilt,  which  opened  by  means  of  a  spring, 
and  disclosed  to  the  horrified  young  man  a  diamond  of 
monstrous  bigness  and  extraordinary  brilliancy.  The 
circumstance  was  so  inexplicable,  the  value  of  the  stone 
was  plainly  so  enormous,  that  Francis  sat  staring  into  the 
open  casket  without  movement,  without  conscious  thought, 
like  a  man  stricken  suddenly  with  idiocy. 

A  hand  was  laid  upon  his  shoulder,  lightly  but  firmly, 
and  a  quiet  voice,  which  yet  had  in  it  the  ring  of  com- 
mand, uttered  these  words  in  his  ear: 

"Close  the  casket,  and  compose  your  face." 

Looking  up,  he  beheld  a  man,  still  young,  of  an  urbane 
and  tranquil  presence,  and  dressed  with  rich  simplicity. 
This  personage  had  risen  from  a  neighboring  table,  and 
bringing  his  glass  with  him,  had  taken  a  seat  beside 
Francis. 

"Close  the  casket,"  replied  the  stranger,  "and  put  it 
quietly  back  into  your  pocket,  where  I  feel  persuaded  it 
should  never  have  been.  Try,  if  you  please,  to  throw  off 
your  bewildered  air,  and  act  as  though  I  were  one  of  your 
acquaintances  whom  you  had  met  by  chance.  So!  Touch 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  169 

glasses  with  me.  That  is  better.  I  fear,  sir,  you  must 
be  an  amateur. ' ' 

And  the  stranger  pronounced  these  last  words  with  a 
smile  of  peculiar  meaning,  leaned  back  in  his  seat  and 
enjoyed  a  deep  inhalation  of  tobacco. 

"For  God's  sake,"  said  Francis,  "tell  me  who  you  are 
and  what  this  means?  Why  I  should  obey  your  most 
unusual  suggestions  I  am  sure  1  know  not;  but  the  truth 
is,  I  have  fallen  this  evening  into  so  many  perplexing  ad- 
ventures, and  all  I  meet  conduct  themselves  so  strangely, 
that  I  think  I  must  either  have  gone  mad  or  wandered 
into  another  planet.  Your  face  inspires  me  with  confi- 
dence; you  seem  wise,  good,  and  experienced;  tell  me,  for 
heaven's  sake,  why  you  accost  me  in  so  odd  a  fashion?" 

"All  in  due  time,"  replied  the  stranger.  "But  I  have 
the  first  hand,  and  you  must  begin  by  telling  me  how 
the  Rajah's  Diamond  is  in  your  possession." 

"The  Rajah's  Diamond!" 

"I  would  not  speak  so  loud,  if  I  were  you,"  returned 
the  other.  "But  most  certainly  you  have  the  Rajah's 
Diamond  in  your  pocket.  I  have  seen  and  handled  it  a 
score  of  times  in  Sir  Thomas  Vandeleur's  collection." 

"Sir  Thomas  Vandeleur!    The  General!     My  father!" 

"Your  father?"  repeated  the  stranger.  "I  was  not 
aware  the  General  had  any  family." 

"I  am  illegitimate,  sir,"  replied  Francis  with  a  flush. 

The  other  bowed  with  gravity.  It  was  a  respectful 
bow,  as  of  a  man  silently  apologizing  to  his  equal ;  and 
Francis  felt  relieved  and  comforted,  he  scarce  knew  why. 
The  society  of  this  person  did  him  good;  he  seemed  to 
touch  firm  ground;  a  strong  feeling  of  respect  grew  up  in 
his  bosom,  and  mechanically  he  removed  his  wide-awake 
as  though  in  the  presence  of  a  superior. 

"I  perceive,"  said  the  stranger,  "that your  adventures 


170  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

have  not  all  been  peaceful.  Your  collar  is  torn,  your  face 
is  scratched,  you  have  a  cut  upon  your  temple;  you  will, 
perhaps,  pardon  my  curiosity  when  I  ask  you  to  explain 
how  you  came  by  these  injuries,  and  how  you  happen 
to  have  stolen  property  to  an  enormous  value  in  your 
pocket. ' ' 

"I  must  differ  from  you!"  returned  Francis,  hotly.  "I 
possess  no  stolen  property.  And  if  you  refer  to  the 
diamond,  it  was  given  to  me  not  an  hour  ago  by  Miss 
Vandeleur  in  the  Rue  Lepic." 

"By  Miss  Vandeleur  of  the  Rue  Lepic!"  repeated  the 
other.  "You  interest  me  more  than  you  suppose.  Pray 
continue." 

"Heavens!"  cried  Francis. 

His  memory  had  made  a  sudden  bound.  He  had  seen 
Mr.  Vandeleur  take  an  article  from  the  breast  of  his 
drugged  visitor,  and  that  article,  he  was  now  persuaded, 
was  a  morocco  case. 

"You  have  a  light?"  inquired  the  stranger. 

"Listen,"  said  Francis.  "I  know  not  who  you  are,  but 
I  believe  you  to  be  worthy  of  confidence  and  helpful;  I 
find  myself  in  strange  waters;  I  must  have  counsel  and 
support,  and  since  you  invite  me  I  shall  tell  you  all." 

And  he  briefly  recounted  his  experiences  since  the  day 
when  he  was  summoned  from  the  bank  by  his  lawyer. 

"Yours  is  indeed  a  remarkable  history,"  said  the 
stranger,  after  the  young  man  had  made  an  end  of  his 
narrative;  "and  your  position  is  full  of  difficulty  and 
peril.  Many  would  counsel  you  to  seek  out  your  father, 
and  give  the  diamond  to  him;  but  I  have  other  views. 
Waiter!"  he  cried. 

The  waiter  drew  near. 

"Will  you  ask  the  manager  to  speak  with  me  a  mo- 
ment?" said  he;  and  Francis  observed  once  more,  both 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  171 

in  his  tone  and  manner,  the  evidence  of  a  habit  of  com- 
mand. 

The  waiter  withdrew,  and  returned  in  a  moment  with 
the  manager,  who  bowed  with  obsequious  respect. 

"What,"  said  he,  "can  I  do  to  serve  you?" 

"Have  the  goodness,"  replied  the  stranger,  indicating 
Francis,  "to  tell  this  gentleman  my  name." 

"You  have  the  honor,  sir,"  said  the  functionary,  ad- 
dressing young  Scrymgeour,  "to  occupy  the  same  table 
with  His  Highness  Prince  Florizel  of  Bohemia." 

Francis  rose  with  precipitation,  and  made  a  grate- 
ful reverence  to  the  Prince,  who  bade  him  resume  his 
seat. 

"I  thank  you,"  said  Florizel,  once  more  addressing  the 
functionary;  "I  am  sorry  to  have  deranged  you  for  so 
small  a  matter. ' ' 

And  he  dismissed  him  with  a  movement  of  his  hand. 

"And  now,"  added  the  Prince,  turning  to  Francis, 
"give  me  the  diamond." 

Without  a  word  the  casket  was  handed  over. 

"You  have  done  right, ' '  said  Florizel ; '  'your  sentiments 
have  properly  inspired  you,  and  you  will  live  to  be  grate- 
ful for  the  misfortunes  of  to-night.  A  man,  Mr.  Scrym- 
geour, may  fall  into  a  thousand  perplexities,  but  if  his 
heart  be  upright  and  his  intelligence  unclouded,  he  will 
issue  from  them  all  without  dishonor.  Let  your  mind  be 
at  rest;  your  affairs  are  in  my  hands;  and  with  the  aid  of 
heaven  I  am  strong  enough  to  bring  them  to  a  good  end. 
Follow  me,  if  you  please,  to  my  carriage." 

So  saying  the  Prince  arose  and,  having  left  a  piece  of 
gold  for  the  waiter,  conducted  the  young  man  from  the 
cafe  and  along  the  Boulevard  to  where  an  unpretentious 
brougham  and  a  couple  of  servants  out  of  livery  awaited 
his  arrival. 


172  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"This  carriage,"  said  he,  "is  at  your  disposal;  collect 
your  baggage  as  rapidly  as  you  can  make  it  convenient, 
and  my  servants  will  conduct  you  to  a  villa  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Paris  where  you  can  wait  in  some  degree  of 
comfort  until  I  have  had  time  to  arrange  your  situation. 
You  will  find  there  a  pleasant  garden,  a  library  of  good 
authors,  a  cook,  a  cellar,  and  some  good  cigars,  which  I 
recommend  to  your  attention.  Jerome,"  he  added,  turn- 
ing to  one  of  the  servants,  "you  have  heard  what  I  say;  I 
leave  Mr.  Scrymgeour  in  your  charge;  you  will,  I  know, 
be  careful  of  my  friend." 

Francis  uttered  some  broken  phrases  of  gratitude. 

"It  will  be  time  enough  to  thank  me,"  said  the  Prince, 
"when  you  are  acknowledged  by  your  father  and  married 
to  Miss  Vandeleur." 

And  with  that  the  Prince  turned  away  and  strolled 
leisurely  in  the  direction  of  Montmartre.  He  hailed  the 
first  passing  cab,  gave  an  address,  and  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  afterwards,  having  discharged  the  driver  some  dis- 
tance lower,  he  was  knocking  at  Mr.  Vandeleur's  garden 
gate. 

It  was  opened  with  singular  precautions  by  the  Dictator 
in  person. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  demanded. 

"You  must  pardon  me  this  late  visit,  Mr.  Vandeleur," 
replied  the  Prince. 

"Your  Highness  is  always  welcome,"  returned  Mr. 
Vandeleur,  stepping  back. 

The  Prince  profited  by  the  open  space,  and  without 
waiting  for  his  host  walked  right  into  the  house  and 
opened  the  door  of  the  salon.  Two  people  were  seated 
there;  one  was  Miss  Vandeleur,  who  bore  the  marks  of 
weeping  about  her  eyes,  and  was  still  shaken  from  time 
to  time  by  a  sob;  in  the  other  the  Prince  recognized  the 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  173 

young  man  who  had  consulted  him  on  literary  matters 
about  a  month  before,  in  a  club  smoking-room. 

"Good  evening,  Miss  Vandeleur,"  said  Florizel;  "you 
look  fatigued.  Mr.  Rolles,  I  believe?  1  hope  you  have 
profited  by  the  study  of  Gaboriau,  Mr.  Rolles." 

But  the  young  clergyman's  temper  was  too  much 
embittered  for  speech;  and  he  contented  himself  with 
bowing  stiffly,  and  continued  to  gnaw  his  lip. 

"To  what  good  wind,"  said  Mr.  Vandeleur,  following 
his  guest,  "am  I  to  attribute  the  honor  of  your  Highness's 
presence?" 

"I  am  come  on  business,"  returned  the  Prince;  "on 
business  with  you;  as  soon  as  that  is  settled  I  shall  request 
Mr.  Rolles  to  accompany  me  for  a  walk.  Mr.  Rolles," 
he  added,  with  severity,  "let  me  remind  you  that  I  have 
not  yet  sat  down." 

The  clergyman  sprang  to  his  feet  with  an  apology; 
whereupon  the  Prince  took  an  armchair  beside  the  table, 
handed  his  hat  to  Mr.  Vandeleur,  his  cane  to  Mr.  Rolles, 
and,  leaving  them  standing  and  thus  menially  employed 
upon  his  service,  spoke  as  follows: 

"I  have  come  here,  as  I  said,  upon  business;  but,  had  I 
come  looking  for  pleasure,  I  could  not  have  been  more 
displeased  with  my  reception  nor  more  dissatisfied  with 
my  company.  You,  sir,"  addressing  Mr.  Rolles,  "you 
have  treated  your  superior  in  station  with  discourtesy; 
you,  Vandeleur,  receive  me  with  a  smile,  but  you  know 
right  well  that  your  hands  are  not  yet  cleansed  from 
misconduct.  I  do  not  desire  to  be  interrupted,  sir,"  he 
added,  imperiously;  "I  am  here  to  speak,  and  not  to  listen; 
and  I  have  to  ask  you  to  hear  me  with  respect,  and  to 
obey  punctiliously.  At  the  earliest  possible  date  your 
daughter  shall  be  married  at  the  Embassy  to  my  friend, 
Francis  Scrymgeour,  your  brother's  acknowledged  son. 


174  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

You  will  oblige  me  by  offering  not  less  than  ten  thousand 
pounds  dowry.  For  yourself,  I  will  indicate  to  you  in 
writing  a  mission  of  some  importance  in  Siam  which  I 
destine  to  your  care.  And  now,  sir,  you  will  answer  me 
in  two  words  whether  or  not  you  agree  to  these  condi- 
tions." 

"Your  Highness  will  pardon  me,"  said  Mr.  Vandeleur, 
"and  permit  me,  with  all  respect,  to  submit  to  him  two 
queries?" 

"The  permission  is  granted,"  replied  the  Prince. 

"Your  Highness,"  resumed  the  Dictator,  "has  called 
Mr.  Scrymgeour  his  friend.  Believe  me,  had  I  known 
that  he  was  thus  honored,  I  should  have  treated  him  with 
proportional  respect." 

"You  interrogate  adroitly,"  said  the  Prince;  "but  it 
will  not  serve  your  turn.  You  have  my  commands;  if  I 
had  never  seen  that  gentleman  before  to-night,  it  would 
not  render  them  less  absolute. ' ' 

"Your  Highness  interprets  my  meaning  with  his  usual 
subtlety,"  returned  Vandeleur.  "Once  more:  I  have, 
unfortunately,  put  the  police  upon  the  track  of  Mr. 
Scrymgeour  on  a  charge  of  theft;  am  I  to  withdraw  or  to 
uphold  the  accusation?" 

"You  will  please  yourself,"  replied  Florizel.  "The 
question  is  one  between  your  conscience  and  the  laws  of 
this  land.  Give  me  my  hat;  and  you,  Mr.  Rolles,  give 
me  my  cane  and  follow  me.  Miss  Vandeleur,  I  wish  you 
good  evening.  I  judge,"  he  added  to  Vandeleur,  "that 
your  silence  means  unqualified  assent. ' ' 

"If  I  can  do  no  better,"  replied  the  old  man,  "I  shall 
submit;  but  I  warn  you  openly  it  shall  not  be  without  a 
struggle." 

"You  are  old,"  said  the  Prince;  "but  years  are  dis- 
graceful to  the  wicked.  Your  age  is  more  unwise  than 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  175 

the  youth  of  others.  Do  not  provoke  me,  or  you  may  find 
me  harder  than  you  dream.  This  is  the  first  time  that  I 
have  fallen  across  your  path  in  anger;  take  care  that  it 
be  the  last." 

With  these  words,  motioning  the  clergyman  to  follow, 
Florizel  left  the  apartment  and  directed  his  steps  towards 
the  garden-gate;  and  the  Dictator,  following  with  a 
candle,  gave  them  light,  and  once  more  undid  the  elabo- 
rate fastenings  with  which  he  sought  to  protect  himself 
from  intrusion. 

"Your  daughter  is  no  longer  present,"  said  the  Prince, 
turning  on  the  threshold.  "Let  me  tell  you  that  I  under- 
stand your  threats;  and  you  have  only  to  lift  your  hand  to 
bring  upon  yourself  sudden  and  irremediable  ruin." 

The  Dictator  made  no  reply ;  but  as  the  Prince  turned 
his  back  upon  him  in  the  lamplight  he  made  a  gesture 
full  of  menace  and  insane  fury;  and  the  next  moment, 
slipping  round  a  corner,  he  was  running  at  full  speed  for 
the  nearest  cab-stand. 

(Here,  says  my  Arabian,  the  thread  of  events  is  finally 
diverted  from  THE  HOUSE  WITH  THE  GREEN  BLINDS. 
One  more  adventure,  he  adds,  and  we  have  done  with 
THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND.  That  last  link  in  the  chain  is 
known  among  the  inhabitants  of  Bagdad  by  the  name  of 
THE  ADVENTURE  OF  PRINCE  FLORIZEL  AND  A  DETEC- 
TIVE.) 


176  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 


ADVENTURE  OF  PRINCE  FLORIZEL  AND 
THE  DETECTIVE 

Prince  Florizel  walked  with  Mr.  Rolles  to  the  door  of 
a  small  hotel  where  the  latter  resided.  They  spoke  much 
together,  and  the  clergyman  was  more  than  once  affected 
to  tears  by  the  mingled  severity  and  tenderness  of  Flor- 
izel's  reproaches. 

"I  have  made  ruin  of  my  life,"  he  said  at  last.  "Help 
me;  tell  me  what  I  am  to  do;  I  have,  alas!  neither  the 
virtues  of  a  priest  nor  the  dexterity  of  a  rogue. ' ' 

"Now  that  you  are  humbled,"  said  the  Prince,  "I 
command  no  longer;  the  repentant  have  to  do  with  God 
and  not  with  princes.  But  if  you  will  let  me  advise  you, 
go  to  Australia  as  a  colonist,  seek  menial  labor  in  the 
open  air,  and  try  to  forget  that  you  have  ever  been  a 
clergyman,  or  that  you  ever  set  eyes  on  that  accursed 
stone." 

"Accurst  indeed!"  replied  Mr.  Rolles.  "Where  is  it 
now?  What  further  hurt  is  it  not  working  for  mankind?" 

"It  will  do  no  more  evil,"  returned  the  Prince.  "It 
is  here  in  my  pocket.  And  this,"  he  added,  kindly,  "will 
show  that  I  place  some  faith  in  your  penitence,  young  as 
it  is." 

"Suffer  me  to  touch  your  hand,"  pleaded  Mr.  Rolles. 

"No,"  replied  Prince  Florizel,  "not  yet." 

The  tone  in  which  he  uttered  these  last  words  was  elo- 
quent in  the  ears  of  the  young  clergyman;  and  for  some 
minutes  after  the  Prince  had  turned  away  he  stood  on  the 
threshold  following  with  his  eyes  the  retreating  figure 
and  invoking  the  blessing  of  heaven  upon  a  man  so  excel- 
lent in  counsel. 

For  several  hours  the  Prince  walked  alone  in  unfre- 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  177 

quented  streets.  His  mind  was  full  of  concern;  what  to 
do  with  the  diamond,  whether  to  return  it  to  its  owner, 
whom  he  judged  unworthy  of  this  rare  possession,  or  to 
take  some  sweeping  and  courageous  measure  and  put  it 
out  of  the  reach  of  all  mankind  at  once  and  for  ever  was 
a  problem  too  grave  to  be  decided  in  a  moment.  The 
manner  in  which  it  had  come  into  his  hands  appeared 
manifestly  providential;  and  as  he  took  out  the  jewel  and 
looked  at  it  under  the  street  lamps,  its  size  and  sur- 
prising brilliancy  inclined  him  more  and  more  to  think 
of  it  as  an  unmixed  and  dangerous  evil  for  the  world. 

"God  help  me!"  he  thought;  "if  I  look  at  it  much 
oftener  I  shall  begin  to  grow  covetous  myself." 

At  last,  though  still  uncertain  in  his  mind,  he  turned 
his  steps  towards  the  small  but  elegant  mansion  on  the 
riverside,  which  had  belonged  for  centuries  to  his  royal 
family.  The  arms  of  Bohemia  are  deeply  graved  over  the 
door  and  upon  the  tall  chimneys;  passengers  have  a  look 
into  a  green  court  set  with  the  most  costly  flowers,  and  a 
stork,  the  only  one  in  Paris,  perches  on  the  gable  all  day 
long  and  keeps  a  crowd  before  the  house.  Grave  servants 
are  seen  passing  to  and  fro  within;  and  from  time  to 
time  the  great  gate  is  thrown  open  and  a  carriage  rolls 
below  the  arch.  For  many  reasons  this  residence  was 
especially  dear  to  the  heart  of  Prince  Florizel;  he  never 
drew  near  to  it  without  enjoying  that  sentiment  of  home- 
coming so  rare  in  the  lives  of  the  great;  and  on  the 
present  evening  he  beheld  its  tall  roof  and  mildly  il- 
luminated windows  with  unfeigned  relief  and  satisfac- 
tion. 

As  he  was  approaching  the  postern  door  by  which  he 
always  entered  when  alone,  a  man  stepped  forth  from  the 
shadow  and  presented  himself  with  an  obeisance  in  the 
Prince's  path. 


178  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"I  have  the  honor  of  addressing  Prince  Florizel  of 
Bohemia?"  said  he. 

"Such  is  my  title,"  replied  the  Prince.  "What  do  you 
want  with  me?" 

"I  am,"  said  the  man,  "a  detective,  and  I  have  to 
present  your  Highness  with  this  billet  from  the  Prefect 
of  Police." 

The  Prince  took  the  letter  and  glanced  it  through  by 
the  light  of  the  street  lamp.  It  was  highly  apologetic, 
but  requested  him  to  follow  the  bearer  to  the  Prefecture 
without  delay. 

"In  short,"  said  Florizel,  "I  am  arrested." 

"Your  Highness,"  replied  the  officer,  "nothing,  I  am 
certain,  could  be  further  from  the  intention  of  the 
Prefect.  You  will  observe  that  he  has  not  granted  a 
warrant.  It  is  mere  formality,  or  call  it  if  you  pre- 
fer, an  obligation  that  your  Highness  lays  on  the  au- 
thorities." 

"At  the  same  time,"  asked  the  Prince,  "if  I  were  to 
refuse  to  follow  you?" 

"I  will  not  conceal  from  your  Highness  that  a  con- 
siderable discretion  has  been  granted  me,"  replied  the 
detective  with  a  bow. 

"Upon  my  word,"  cried  Florizel,  "your  effrontery 
confounds  me!  Yourself,  as  an  agent,  I  must  pardon; 
but  your  superiors  shall  dearly  smart  for  their  miscon- 
duct. What,  have  you  any  idea,  is  the  cause  of  this 
impolitic  and  unconstitutional  act?  You  will  observe 
that  I  have  as  yet  neither  refused  nor  consented  and 
much  may  depend  on  your  prompt  and  ingenuous  answer. 
Let  me  remind  you,  officer,  that  this  is  an  affair  of  some 
gravity. ' ' 

"Your  Highness, "  said  the  detective  humbly,  "General 
Vandeleur  and  his  brother  have  had  the  incredible  pre- 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  179 

sumption  to  accuse  you  of  theft.  The  famous  diamond, 
they  declare,  is  in  your  hands.  A  word  from  you  in 
denial  will  most  amply  satisfy  the  Prefect;  nay,  I  go 
farther:  if  your  Highness  would  so  far  honor  a  subaltern 
as  to  declare  his  ignorance  of  the  matter  even  to  myself, 
I  should  ask  permission  to  retire  upon  the  spot." 

Florizel,  up  to  the  last  moment,  had  regarded  his 
adventure  in  the  light  of  a  trifle,  only  serious  upon  in- 
ternational considerations.  At  the  name  of  Vandeleur 
the  horrible  truth  broke  upon  him  in  a  moment;  he  was 
not  only  arrested,  but  he  was  guilty.  This  was  not  only 
an  annoying  incident — it  was  a  peril  to  his  honor.  What 
was  he  to  say?  What  was  he  to  do?  The  Rajah's  Dia- 
mond was  indeed  an  accursed  stone;  and  it  seemed  as  if 
he  were  to  be  the  last  victim  to  its  influence. 

One  thing  was  certain.  He  could  not  give  the  required 
assurance  to  the  detective.  He  must  gain  time. 

His  hesitation  had  not  lasted  a  second. 

"Be  it  so,"  said  he,  "let  us  walk  together  to  the  Pre- 
fecture. ' ' 

The  man  once  more  bowed,  and  proceeded  to  follow 
Florizel  at  a  respectful  distance  in  the  rear. 

"Approach,"  said  the  Prince.  "I  am  in  a  humor  to 
talk,  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  now  I  look  at  you  again,  this 
is  not  the  first  time  that  we  have  met." 

"I  count  it  an  honor,"  replied  the  officer,  "that  your 
Highness  should  recollect  my  face.  It  is  eight  years  since 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  an  interview. ' ' 

"To  remember  faces,"  returned  Florizel,  "is  as  much 
a  part  of  my  profession  as  it  is  of  yours.  Indeed,  rightly 
looked  upon,  a  Prince  and  a  detective  serve  in  the  same 
corps.  We  are  both  combatants  against  crime;  only  mine 
is  the  more  lucrative  and  yours  the  more  dangerous  rank, 
and  there  is  a  sense  in  which  both  may  be  made  equally 


180  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

honorable  to  a  good  man.  I  had  rather,  strange  as  you 
may  think  it,  be  a  detective  of  character  and  parts  than  a 
weak  and  ignoble  sovereign. '  * 

The  officer  was  overwhelmed. 

"Your  Highness  returns  good  for  evil,"  said  he.  "To 
an  act  of  presumption  he  replies  by  the  most  amiable 
condescension. ' ' 

"How  do  you  know,"  replied  Florizel,  "that  I  am  not 
seeking  to  corrupt  you?" 

"Heaven  preserve  me  from  the  temptation!"  cried  the 
detective. 

"I  applaud  your  answer,"  returned  the  Prince.  "It  is 
that  of  a  wise  and  honest  man.  The  world  is  a  great 
place,  and  stocked  with  wealth  and  beauty,  and  there  is 
no  limit  to  the  rewards  that  may  be  offered.  Such  an 
one  who  would  refuse  a  million  of  money  may  sell  his 
honor  for  an  empire  or  the  love  of  a  woman;  and  I  myself, 
who  speak  to  you,  have  seen  occasions  so  tempting,  provo- 
cations so  irresistible  to  the  strength  of  human  virtue^ 
that  I  have  been  glad  to  tread  in  your  steps  and  recom- 
mend myself  to  the  grace  of  God.  It  is  thus,  thanks  to 
that  modest  and  becoming  habit  alone,"  he  added,  "that 
you  and  I  can  walk  this  town  together  with  untarnished 
hearts." 

"I  had  always  heard  that  you  were  brave,"  replied  the 
officer,  "but  I  was  not  aware  that  you  were  wise  and 
pious.  You  speak  the  truth,  and  you  speak  it  with  an 
accent  that  moves  me  to  the  heart.  This  world  is  indeed 
a  place  of  trial." 

"We  are  now,"  said  Florizel,  "in  the  middle  of  the 
bridge.  Lean  your  elbows  on  the  parapet  and  look  over. 
As  the  water  rushing  below,  so  the  passions  and  compli- 
cations of  life  carry  away  the  honesty  of  weak  men.  Let 
me  tell  you  a  story." 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  181 

"I  receive  your  Highness's  commands,"  replied  the 
man. 

And,  imitating  the  Prince,  he  leaned  against  the  para- 
pet, and  disposed  himself  to  listen.  The  city  was  already 
sunk  in  slumber;  had  it  not  been  for  the  infinity  of  lights 
and  the  outline  of  buildings  on  the  starry  sky,  they  might 
have  been  alone  beside  some  country  river. 

"An  officer, "began  Prince Florizel,  "a man  of  courage 
and  conduct,  who  had  already  risen  by  merit  to  an  emi- 
nent rank,  and  won  not  only  admiration  but  respect, 
visited,  in  an  unfortunate  hour  for  his  peace  of  mind,  the 
collections  of  an  Indian  Prince.  Here  he  beheld  a  diamond 
so  extraordinary  for  size  and  beauty  that  from  that  in- 
stant he  had  only  one  desire  in  life:  honor,  reputation, 
friendship,  the  love  of  country,  he  was  ready  to  sacrifice 
all  for  this  lump  of  sparkling  crystal.  For  three  years 
he  served  this  semi-barbarian  potentate  as  Jacob  served 
Laban;  he  falsified  frontiers,  he  connived  at  murders,  he 
unjustly  condemned  and  executed  a  brother  officer  who 
had  the  misfortune  to  displease  the  Rajah  by  some  honest 
freedoms;  lastly,  at  a  time  of  great  danger  to  his  native 
land,  he  betrayed  a  body  of  his  fellow-soldiers  and  suffered 
them  to  be  defeated  and  massacred  by  thousands.  In  the 
end,  he  had  amassed  a  magnificent  fortune,  and  brought 
home  with  him  the  coveted  diamond. 

"Years  passed,"  continued  the  Prince,  "and  at  length 
the  diamond  is  accidentally  lost.  It  falls  into  the  hands 
of  a  simple  and  laborious  youth,  a  student,  a  minister  of 
God,  just  entering  on  a  career  of  usefulness  and  even  dis- 
tinction. Upon  him  also  the  spell  is  cast;  he  deserts 
everything,  his  holy  calling,  his  studies,  and  flees  with 
the  gem  into  a  foreign  country.  The  officer  has  a  brother, 
an  astute,  daring,  unscrupulous  man,  who  learns  the 
clergyman's  secret.  What  does  he  do?  Tell  his  brother, 


182  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

inform  the  police?  No;  upon  this  man  also  the  Satanic 
charm  has  fallen;  he  must  have  the  stone  for  himself.  At 
the  risk  of  murder,  he  drugs  the  young  priest  and  seizes 
the  prey.  And  now,  by  an  accident  which  is  not  impor- 
tant to  my  moral,  the  jewel  passes  out  of  his  custody  into 
that  of  another,  who,  terrified  at  what  he  sees,  gives  it 
into  the  keeping  of  a  man  in  high  station  and  above 
reproach. 

"The  officer's  name  is  Thomas  Vandeleur, "  continued 
Florizel.  "The  stone  is  called  the  Rajah's  Diamond. 
And" — suddenly  opening  his  hand — "you  behold  it  here 
before  your  eyes. ' ' 

The  officer  started  back  with  a  cry. 

'  'We  have  spoken  of  corruption, ' '  said  the  Prince.  '  'To 
me  this  nugget  of  bright  crystal  is  as  loathsome  as  though 
it  were  crawling  with  the  worms  of  death;  it  is  as  shock- 
ing as  though  it  were  compacted  out  of  innocent  blood. 
I  see  it  here  in  my  hand,  and  I  know  it  is  shining  with 
hell-fire.  I  have  told  you  but  a  hundredth  part  of  its 
story;  what  passed  in  former  ages,  to  what  crimes  and 
treacheries  it  incited  men  of  yore,  the  imagination  trem- 
bles to  conceive;  for  years  and  years  it  has  faithfully 
served  the  powers  of  hell;  enough,  I  say,  of  blood,  enough 
of  disgrace,  enough  of  broken  lives  and  friendships;  all 
things  come  to  an  end,  the  evil  like  the  good ;  pestilence 
as  well  as  beautiful  music;  and  as  for  this  diamond,  God 
forgive  me  if  I  do  wrong,  but  its  empire  ends  to-night." 

The  Prince  made  a  sudden  movement  with  his  hand, 
and  the  jewel,  describing  an  arc  of  light,  dived  with  a 
splash  into  the  flowing  river.  , 

"Amen,"  said  Florizel,  with  gravity.  "I  have  slain  a 
cockatrice!" 

"God  pardon  me!"  cried  the  detective.  "What  have 
you  done?  I  am  a  ruined  man." 


THE  RAJAH'S  DIAMOND  183 

"I  think,"  returned  the  Prince,  with  a  smile,  "that 
many  well-to-do  people  in  this  city  might  envy  you  your 
ruin." 

"Alas!  your  Highness!"  said  the  officer,  "and  you 
corrupt  me  after  all?" 

"It  seems  there  was  no  help  for  it,"  replied  Florizel. 
"And  now  let  us  go  forward  to  the  Prefecture." 

Not  long  after,  the  marriage  of  Francis  Scrymgeour  and 
Miss  Vandeleur  was  celebrated  in  great  privacy;  and  the 
Prince  acted  on  that  occasion  as  groom's  man.  The  two 
Vandeleurs  surprised  some  rumor  of  what  had  happened 
to  the  diamond;  and  their  vast  diving  operations  on  the 
River  Seine  are  the  wonder  and  amusement  of  the  idle. 
It  is  true  that  through  some  miscalculation  they  have 
chosen  the  wrong  branch  of  the  river.  As  for  the  Prince, 
that  sublime  person,  having  now  served  his  turn,  may  go, 
along  with  the  Arabian  Author,  topsy-turvy  into  space. 
But  if  the  reader  insists  on  more  specific  information,  I 
am  happy  to  say  that  a  recent  revolution  hurled  him  from 
the  throne  of  Bohemia,  in  consequence  of  his  continued 
absence  and  edifying  neglect  of  public  business;  and  that 
his  Highness  now  keeps  a  cigar  store  in  Rupert  Street, 
much  frequented  by  other  foreign  refugees. 

I  go  there  from  time  to  time  to  smoke  and  have  a  chat, 
and  find  him  as  great  a  creature  as  in  the  days  of  his 
prosperity;  he  has  an  Olympian  air  behind  the  counter; 
and  although  a  sedentary  life  is  beginning  to  tell  upon  his 
waistcoat,  he  is  probably,  take  him  for  all  in  all,  the 
handsomest  tobacconist  in  London. 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS 

CHAPTER  I 

TELLS  HOW  I  CAMPED  IN  GRADEN  SEA-WOOD,  AND  BEHELD 
A  LIGHT  IN  THE  PAVILION 

I  WAS  a  great  solitary  when  I  was  young.  I  made  it 
my  pride  to  keep  aloof  and  suffice  for  my  own  entertain- 
ment; and  I  may  say  that  I  had  neither  friends  nor 
acquaintances  until  I  met  that  friend  who  became  my 
wife  and  the  mother  of  my  children.  With  one  man  only 
was  I  on  private  terms;  this  was  R.  Northmour,  Esquire, 
of  Graden  Easter,  in  Scotland.  We  had  met  at  college; 
and  though  there  was  not  much  liking  between  us,  nor 
even  much  intimacy,  we  were  so  nearly  of  a  humor  that 
we  could  associate  with  ease  to  both.  Misanthropes,  we 
believed  ourselves  to  be;  but  I  have  thought  since  that  we 
were  only  sulky  fellows.  It  was  scarcely  a  companion- 
ship, but  a  coexistence  in  unsociability.  Northmour's 
exceptional  violence  of  temper  made  it  no  easy  affair  for 
him  to  keep  the  peace  with  anyone  but  me;  and  as  he 
respected  my  silent  ways,  and  let  me  come  and  go  as  I 
pleased,  I  could  tolerate  his  presence  without  concern. 
I  think  we  called  each  other  friends. 

When  Northmour  took  his  degree  and  I  decided  to  leave 
the  university  without  one,  he  invited  me  on  a  long  visit 
to  Graden  Easter;  and  it  was  thus  that  I  first  became 
acquainted  with  the  scene  of  my  adventures.  The  mansion 
house  of  Graden  stood  in  a  bleak  stretch  of  country  some 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  185 

three  miles  from  the  shore  of  the  German  Ocean.  It  was 
as  large  as  a  barrack;  and  as  it  had  been  built  of  a  soft 
stone,  liable  to  consume  in  the  eager  air  of  the  seaside,  it 
was  damp  and  draughty  within  and  half  ruinous  without. 
It  was  impossible  for  two  young  men  to  lodge  with  com- 
fort in  such  a  dwelling.  But  there  stood  in  the  northern 
part  of  the  estate,  in  a  wilderness  of  links  and  blowing 
sand-hills,  and  between  a  plantation  and  the  sea,  a  small 
Pavilion  or  Belvedere,  of  modern  design,  which  was 
exactly  suited  to  our  wants;  and  in  this  hermitage,  speak- 
ing little,  reading  much,  and  rarely  associating  except  at 
meals,  Northmour  and  I  spent  four  tempestuous  winter 
months.  I  might  have  stayed  longer;  but  one  March 
night  there  sprang  up  between  us  a  dispute,  which  ren- 
dered my  departure  necessary.  Northmour  spoke  hotly,  I 
remember,  and  I  suppose  I  must  have  made  some  tart 
rejoinder.  He  leaped  from  his  chair  and  grappled  me;  I 
had  to  fight,  without  exaggeration,  for  my  life;  and  it 
was  only  with  a  great  effort  that  I  mastered  him,  for  he 
was  near  as  strong  in  body  as  myself,  and  seemed  filled 
with  the  devil.  The  next  morning,  we  met  on  our  usual 
terms;  but  I  judged  it  more  delicate  to  withdraw;  nor 
did  he  attempt  to  dissuade  me. 

It  was  nine  years  before  I  revisited  the  neighborhood. 
I  traveled  at  that  time  with  a  tilt  cart,  a  tent,  and  a 
cooking-stove,  tramping  all  day  beside  the  wagon,  and  at 
night,  whenever  it  was  possible,  gipsying  in  a  cove  of  the 
hills,  or  by  the  side  of  a  wood.  I  believe  I  visited  in  this 
manner  most  of  the  wild  and  desolate  regions  both  in 
England  and  Scotland;  and,  as  I  had  neither  friends  nor 
relations,  I  was  troubled  with  no  correspondence,  and  had 
nothing  in  the  nature  of  headquarters,  unless  it  was  the 
office  of  my  solicitors,  from  whom  I  drew  my  income  twice 
a  year.  It  was  a  life  in  which  I  delighted;  and  I  fully 


186  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

thought  to  have  grown  old  upon  the  march,  and  at  last 
died  in  a  ditch. 

It  was  my  whole  business  to  find  desolate  corners,  where 
I  could  camp  without  the  fear  of  interruption;  and  hence 
being  in  another  part  of  the  same  shire,  I  bethought  me 
suddenly  of  the  Pavilion  on  the  Links.  No  thoroughfare 
passed  within  three  miles  of  it.  The  nearest  town,  and 
that  was  but  a  fisher  village,  was  at  a  distance  of  six  or 
seven.  For  ten  miles  of  length,  and  from  a  depth  vary- 
ing from  three  miles  to  half  a  mile,  this  belt  of  barren 
country  lay  along  the  sea.  The  beach,  which  was  the 
natural  approach,  was  full  of  quicksands.  Indeed  I  may 
say  there  is  hardly  a  better  place  of  concealment  in  the 
United  Kingdom.  I  determined  to  pass  a  week  in  the 
Sea- Wood  of  Graden  Easter,  and  making  a  long  stage, 
reached  it  about  sundown  on  a  wild  September  day. 

The  country,  I  have  said,  was  mixed  sand-hill  and  links; 
links  being  a  Scottish  name  for  sand  which  has  ceased 
drifting  and  become  more  or  less  solidly  covered  with 
turf.  The  pavilion  stood  on  an  even  space,  a  little  be- 
hind it,  the  wood  began  in  a  hedge  of  elders  huddled 
together  by  the  wind;  in  front,  a  few  tumbled  sand-hills 
stood  between  it  and  the  sea.  An  outcropping  of  rock 
had  formed  a  bastion  for  the  sand,  so  that  there  was  here 
a  promontory  in  the  coast-line  between  two  shallow  bays; 
and  just  beyond  the  tides,  the  rock  again  cropped  out  and 
formed  an  islet  of  small  dimensions  but  strikingly  de- 
signed. The  quicksands  were  of  great  extent  at  low 
water,  and  had  an  infamous  reputation  in  the  country. 
Close  in  shore,  between  the  islet  and  the  promontory,  it 
was  said  that  they  would  swallow  a  man  in  four  minutes 
and  a  half;  but  there  may  have  been  little  ground  for  this 
precision.  The  district  was  alive  with  rabbits,  and  haunted 
by  gulls  which  made  a  continual  piping  about  the  pavilion. 


EDINBURGH   HOME   OF  THE   STEVENSON    FAMILY,   1853-1887. 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  187 

On  summer  days  the  outlook  was  bright  and  even  glad- 
some; but  at  sundown  in  September,  with  a  high  wind, 
and  a  heavy  surf  rolling  in  close  along  the  links,  the  place 
told  of  nothing  but  dead  mariners  and  sea  disasters.  A 
ship  beating  to  windward  on  the  horizon,  and  a  huge 
truncheon  of  wreck  half  buried  in  the  sands  at  my  feet, 
completed  the  innuendo  of  the  scene. 

The  pavilion — it  had  been  built  by  the  last  proprietor, 
Northmour's  uncle,  a  silly  and  prodigal  virtuoso — pre- 
sented little  signs  of  age.  It  was  two  stories  in  height, 
Italian  in  design,  surrounded  by  a  patch  of  garden  in 
which  nothing  had  prospered  but  a  few  coarse  flowers; 
and  looked,  with  its  shuttered  windows,  not  like  a  house 
that  had  been  deserted,  but  like  one  that  had  never  been 
tenanted  by  man.  Northmour  was  plainly  from  home; 
whether,  as  usual,  sulking  in  the  cabin  of  his  yacht,  or  in 
one  of  his  fitful  and  extravagant  appearances  in  the  world 
of  society,  I  had,  of  course,  no  means  of  guessing.  The 
place  had  an  air  of  solitude  that  daunted  even  a  soli- 
tary like  myself;  the  wind  cried  in  the  chimneys  with  a 
strange  and  wailing  note;  and  it  was  with  a  sense  of 
escape,  as  if  I  were  going  indoors,  that  I  turned  away 
and  driving  my  cart  before  me  entered  the  skirts  of  the 
wood. 

The  Sea- Wood  of  Graden  had  been  planted  to  shelter 
the  cultivated  fields  behind,  and  check  the  encroachments 
of  the  blowing  sand.  As  you  advanced  into  it  from  coast- 
ward,  elders  were  succeeded  by  other  hardy  shrubs;  but 
the  timber  was  all  stunted  and  bushy;  it  led  a  life  of 
conflict;  the  trees  were  accustomed  to  swing  there  all 
night  long  in  fierce  winter  tempests;  and  even  in  early 
spring,  the  leaves  were  already  flying,  and  autumn  was 
beginning,  in  this  exposed  plantation.  Inland  the  ground 
rose  into  a  little  hill,  which,  along  with  the  islet,  served 


188  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

as  a  sailing  mark  for  seamen.  When  the  hill  was  open 
of  the  islet  to  the  north,  vessels  must  bear  well  to  the 
eastward  to  clear  Graden  Ness  and  the  Graden  Bullers. 
In  the  lower  ground,  a  streamlet  ran  among  the  trees, 
and,  being  dammed  with  dead  leaves  and  clay  of  its  own 
carrying,  spread  out  every  here  and  there,  and  lay  in 
stagnant  pools.  One  or  two  ruined  cottages  were  dotted 
about  the  wood;  and,  according  to  Northmour,  these  were 
ecclesiastical  foundations,  and  in  their  time  had  sheltered 
pious  hermits. 

I  found  a  den,  or  small  hollow,  where  there  was  a  spring 
of  pure  water;  and  there,  clearing  away  the  brambles,  I 
pitched  the  tent,  and  made  a  fire  to  cook  my  supper.  My 
horse  I  picketed  farther  in  the  wood  where  there  was  a 
patch  of  sward.  The  banks  of  the  den  not  only  concealed 
the  light  of  my  fire,  but  sheltered  me  from  the  wind, 
which  was  cold  as  well  as  high. 

The  life  I  was  leading  made  me  both  hardy  and  frugal. 
I  never  drank  but  water,  and  rarely  ate  anything  more 
costly  than  oatmeal;  and  I  required  so  little  sleep,  that, 
although  I  rose  with  the  peep  of  day,  I  would  often  lie 
long  awake  in  the  dark  or  starry  watches  of  the  night. 
Thus  in  Graden  Sea-Wood,  although  I  fell  thankfully 
asleep  by  eight  in  the  evening  I  was  awake  again  before 
eleven  with  a  full  possession  of  my  faculties,  and  no  sense 
of  drowsiness  or  fatigue.  I  rose  and  sat  by  the  fire, 
watching  the  trees  and  clouds  tumultuously  tossing  and 
fleeing  overhead,  and  barkening  to  the  wind  and  rollers 
along  the  shore;  till  at  length,  growing  weary  of  inaction, 
I  quitted  the  den,  and  strolled  towards  the  borders  of  the 
wood.  A  young  moon,  buried  in  mist,  gave  a  faint  illu- 
mination to  my  steps;  and  the  light  grew  brighter  as  I 
walked  forth  into  the  links.  At  the  same  moment,  the 
wind,  smelling  salt  of  the  open  ocean  and  carrying  par- 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  189 

tides  of  sand,  struck  me  with  its  full  force,  so  that  I  had 
to  bow  my  head. 

When  I  raised  it  again  to  look  about  me,  I  was  aware 
of  a  light  in  the  pavilion.  It  was  not  stationary;  but 
passed  from  one  window  to  another,  as  though  some  one 
were  reviewing  the  different  apartments  with  a  lamp  or 
candle.  I  watched  it  for  some  seconds  in  great  surprise. 
When  I  had  arrived  in  the  afternoon  the  house  had  been 
plainly  deserted;  now  it  was  as  plainly  occupied.  It  was 
my  first  idea  that  a  gang  of  thieves  might  have  broken  in 
and  be  now  ransacking  Northmour's  cupboards,  which 
were  many  and  not  ill  supplied.  But  what  should  bring 
thieves  to  Graden  Blaster?  And,  again,  all  the  shutters 
had  been  thrown  open,  and  it  would  have  been  more  in 
the  character  of  such  gentry  to  close  them.  I  dismissed 
the  notion,  and  fell  back  upon  another.  Northmour  him- 
self must  have  arrived,  and  was  now  airing  and  inspecting 
the  pavilion. 

I  have  said  that  there  was  no  real  affection  between  this 
man  and  me;  but,  had  I  loved  him  like  a  brother,  I  was 
then  so  much  in  love  with  solitude  that  I  should  none  the 
less  have  shunned  his  company.  As  it  was,  I  turned  and 
ran  for  it;  and  it  was  with  genuine  satisfaction  that  I 
found  myself  safely  back  beside  the  fire.  I  had  escaped 
an  acquaintance;  I  should  have  one  more  night  in  com- 
fort. In  the  morning,  I  might  either  slip  away  before 
Northmour  was  abroad,  or  pay  him  as  short  a  visit  as  I 
chose. 

But  when  morning  came,  I  thought  the  situation  so 
diverting  that  I  forgot  my  shyness.  Northmour  was  at 
my  mercy;  I  arranged  a  good  practical  jest,  though  I  knew 
well  that  my  neighbor  was  not  the  man  to  jest  with  in 
security;  and,  chuckling  beforehand  over  its  success,  took 
my  place  among  the  elders  at  the  edge  of  the  wood,  whence 


190  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

I  could  command  the  door  of  the  pavilion.  The  shutters 
were  all  once  more  closed,  which  I  remember  thinking 
odd ;  and  the  house,  with  its  white  walls  and  green  Vene- 
tians, looked  spruce  and  habitable  in  the  morning  light. 
Hour  after  hour  passed,  and  still  no  sign  of  Northmour. 
I  knew  him  for  a  sluggard  in  the  morning;  but,  as  it  drew 
on  towards  noon,  I  lost  my  patience.  To  say  the  truth,  I 
had  promised  myself  to  break  my  fast  in  the  pavilion,  and 
hunger  began  to  prick  me  sharply.  It  was  a  pity  to  let 
the  opportunity  go  by  without  some  cause  for  mirth ;  but 
the  grosser  appetite  prevailed,  and  I  relinquished  my  jest 
with  regret,  and  sallied  from  the  wood. 

The  appearance  of  the  house  affected  me,  as  I  drew 
near,  with  disquietude.  It  seemed  unchanged  since  last 
evening;  and  I  had  expected  it,  I  scarce  knew  why,  to 
wear  some  external  signs  of  habitation.  But  no;  the 
windows  were  all  closely  shuttered,  the  chimneys  breathed 
no  smoke,  and  the  front  door  itself  was  closely  padlocked. 
Northmour,  therefore,  had  entered  by  the  back;  this  was 
the  natural,  and,  indeed,  the  necessary  conclusion;  and 
you  may  judge  of  my  surprise  when,  on  turning  the  house, 
I  found  the  back  door  similarly  secured. 

My  mind  at  once  reverted  to  the  original  theory  of 
thieves;  and  I  blamed  myself  sharply  for  my  last  night's 
inaction.  I  examined  all  the  windows  on  the  lower  story, 
but  none  of  them  had  been  tampered  with;  I  tried  the 
padlocks,  but  they  were  both  secure.  It  thus  became  a 
problem  how  the  thieves,  if  thieves  they  were,  had  man- 
aged to  enter  the  house.  They  must  have  got,  I  reasoned, 
upon  the  roof  of  the  outhouse  where  Northmour  used  to 
keep  his  photographic  battery;  and  from  thence,  either 
by  the  window  of  the  study  or  that  of  my  old  bedroom, 
completed  their  burglarious  entry 

I  followed  what  I  supposed  was  their  example;  and, 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  191 

getting  on  the  roof,  tried  the  shutters  of  each  room. 
Both  were  secure;  but  I  was  not  to  be  beaten;  and,  with 
a  little  force,  one  of  them  flew  open,  grazing,  as  it  did  so, 
the  back  of  my  hand.  I  remember,  I  put  the  wound  to 
my  mouth,  and  stood  for  perhaps  half  a  minute  licking 
it  like  a  dog,  and  mechanically  gazing  behind  me  over  the 
waste  links  and  the  sea;  and,  in  that  space  of  time,  my 
eye  made  note  of  a  large  schooner  yacht  some  miles  to  the 
northeast.  Then  I  threw  up  the  window  and  climbed  in. 

I  went  over  the  house,  and  nothing  can  express  my 
mystification.  There  was  no  sign  of  disorder,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  the  rooms  were  unusually  clean  and  pleasant. 
I  found  fires  laid,  ready  for  lighting;  three  bedrooms 
prepared  with  a  luxury  quite  foreign  to  Northmour's 
habits,  and  with  water  in  the  ewers  and  the  beds  turned 
down;  a  table  set  for  three  in  the  dining-room;  and  an 
ample  supply  of  cold  meats,  game  and  vegetables  on  the 
pantry  shelves.  There  were  guests  expected,  that  was 
plain;  but  why  guests,  when  Northmour  hated  society? 
And,  above  all,  why  was  the  house  thus  stealthily  prepared 
at  dead  of  night?  and  why  were  the  shutters  closed  and 
the  doors  padlocked? 

I  effaced  all  traces  of  my  visit,  and  came  forth  from 
the  window  feeling  sobered  and  concerned. 

The  schooner  yacht  was  still  in  the  same  place;  and  it 
flashed  for  a  moment  through  my  mind  that  this  might  be 
the  Red  Earl  bringing  the  owner  of  the  pavilion  and  his 
guests.  But  the  vessel's  head  was  set  the  other  way. 


192  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

CHAPTER  II 
TELLS  OF  THE  NOCTURNAL  LANDING  FROM  THE  YACHT 

I  returned  to  the  den  to  cook  myself  a  meal,  of  which  I 
stood  in  great  need,  as  well  as  to  care  for  my  horse,  whom 
I  had  somewhat  neglected  in  the  morning.  From  time  to 
time  I  went  down  to  the  edge  of  the  wood ;  but  there  was 
no  change  in  the  pavilion,  and  not  a  human  creature  was 
seen  all  day  upon  the  links.  The  schooner  in  the  offing 
was  the  one  touch  of  life  within  my  range  of  vision.  She, 
apparently  with  no  set  object,  stood  off  and  on  or  lay  to, 
hour  after  hour;  but  as  the  evening  deepened,  she  drew 
steadily  nearer.  I  became  more  convinced  that  she  carried 
Northmour  and  his  friends,  and  that  they  would  probably 
come  ashore  after  dark;  not  only  because  that  was  of  a 
piece  with  the  secrecy  of  the  preparations,  but  because 
the  tide  would  not  have  flowed  sufficiently  before  eleven 
to  cover  Graden  Floe  and  the  other  sea  quags  that  fortified 
the  shore  against  invaders. 

All  day  the  wind  had  been  going  down,  and  the  sea 
along  with  it;  but  there  was  a  return  towards  sunset  of 
the  heavy  weather  of  the  day  before.  The  night  set  in 
pitch  dark.  The  wind  came  off  the  sea  in  squalls,  like 
the  firing  of  a  battery  of  cannon ;  now  and  then  there  was 
a  flaw  of  rain,  and  the  surf  rolled  heavier  with  the  rising 
tide.  I  was  down  at  my  observatory  among  the  elders, 
when  a  light  was  run  up  to  the  masthead  of  the  schooner, 
and  showed  she  was  closer  in  than  when  I  had  last  seen 
her  by  the  dying  daylight.  I  concluded  that  this  must  be 
a  signal  to  Northmour's  associates  on  shore;  and,  stepping 
forth  into  the  links,  looked  around  me  for  something  in 
response. 

A  small  footpath  ran  along  the  margin  of  the  wood,  and 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  193 

formed  the  most  direct  communication  between  the  pa- 
vilion and  the  mansion  house;  and,  as  I  cast  my  eyes  to 
that  side,  I  saw  a  spark  of  light,  not  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
away,  and  rapidly  approaching.  From  its  uneven  course 
it  appeared  to  be  the  light  of  a  lantern  carried  by  a  person 
who  followed  the  windings  of  the  path,  and  was  often 
staggered  and  taken  aback  by  the  more  violent  squalls. 
I  concealed  myself  once  more  among  the  elders,  and  waited 
eagerly  for  the  new  comer's  advance.  It  proved  to  be  a 
woman;  and,  as  she  passed  within  half  a  rod  of  my  am- 
bush, I  was  able  to  recognize  the  features.  The  deaf  and 
silent  old  dame,  who  had  nursed  Northmour  in  his  child- 
hood, was  his  associate  in  this  underhand  affair. 

I  followed  her  at  a  little  distance,  taking  advantage  of 
the  innumerable  heights  and  hollows,  concealed  by  the 
darkness,  and  favored  not  only  by  the  nurse's  deafness, 
but  the  uproar  of  the  wind  and  surf.  She  entered  the 
pavilion,  and,  going  at  once  to  the  upper  story,  opened  and 
set  a  light  in  one  of  the  windows  that  looked  towards  the 
sea.  Immediately  afterwards  the  light  at  the  schooner's 
masthead  was  run  down  and  extinguished.  Its  purpose 
had  been  attained,  and  those  on  board  were  sure  that 
they  were  expected.  The  old  woman  resumed  her  prep- 
arations; although  the  other  shutters  remained  closed,  I 
could  see  a  glimmer  going  to  and  fro  about  the  house; 
and  a  gush  of  sparks  from  one  chimney  after  another  soon 
told  me  that  the  fires  were  being  kindled. 

Northmour  and  his  guests,  I  was  now  persuaded,  would 
come  ashore  as  soon  as  there  was  water  on  the  floe.  It 
was  a  wild  night  for  boat  service;  and  I  felt  some  alarm 
mingle  with  my  curiosity  as  I  reflected  on  the  danger  of 
the  landing.  My  old  acquaintance,  it  was  true,  was  the 
most  eccentric  of  men;  but  the  present  eccentricity  was 
both  disquieting  and  lugubrious  to  consider.  A  variety 


194  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

of  feelings  thus  led  me  towards  the  beach,  where  I  lay  flat 
on  my  face  in  a  hollow  within  six  feet  of  the  track  that 
led  to  the  pavilion.  Thence,  I  should  have  the  satisfaction 
of  recognizing  the  arrivals,  and,  if  they  should  prove  to  be 
acquaintances,  greeting  them  as  soon  as  they  had  landed. 

Some  time  before  eleven,  while  the  tide  was  still  danger- 
ously low,  a  boat's  lantern  appeared  close  in  shore;  and, 
my  attention  being  thus  awakened,  I  could  perceive 
another  still  far  to  seaward,  violently  tossed,  and  some- 
times hidden  by  the  billows.  The  weather,  which  was 
getting  dirtier  as  the  night  went  on,  and  the  perilous 
situation  of  the  yacht  upon  a  lee-shore,  had  probably 
driven  them  to  attempt  a  landing  at  the  earliest  possible 
moment. 

A  little  afterwards,  four  yachtsmen  carrying  a  very 
heavy  chest,  and  guided  by  a  fifth  with  a  lantern,  passed 
close  in  front  of  me  as  I  lay,  and  were  admitted  to  the 
pavilion  by  the  nurse.  They  returned  to  the  beach,  and 
passed  me  a  third  time  with  another  chest,  larger  but 
apparently  not  so  heavy  as  the  first.  A  third  time  they 
made  the  transit;  and  on  this  occasion  one  of  the  yachts- 
men carried  a  leather  portmanteau,  and  the  others  a  lady's 
trunk  and  carriage  bag.  My  curiosity  was  sharply  excited. 
If  a  woman  were  among  the  guests  of  Northmour,  it  would 
show  a  change  in  his  habits  and  an  apostasy  from  his  pet 
theories  of  life,  well  calculated  to  fill  me  with  surprise. 
When  he  and  I  dwelt  there  together,  the  pavilion  had  been 
a  temple  of  misogyny.  And  now,  one  of  the  detested  sex 
was  to  be  installed  under  its  roof.  I  remembered  one  or 
two  particulars,  a  few  notes  of  daintiness  and  almost  of 
coquetry  which  had  struck  me  the  day  before  as  I  surveyed 
the  preparations  in  the  house;  their  purpose  was  now 
clear,  and  I  thought  myself  dull  not  to  have  perceived  it 
from  the  first. 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  195 

While  I  was  thus  reflecting  a  second  lantern  drew  near 
me  from  the  beach.  It  was  carried  by  a  yachtsman  whom 
I  had  not  yet  seen,  and  who  was  conducting  two  other 
persons  to  the  pavilion.  These  two  persons  were  un- 
questionably the  guests  for  whom  the  house  was  made 
ready;  and,  straining  eye  and  ear,  I  set  myself  to  watch 
them  as  they  passed.  One  was  an  unusually  tall  man,  in 
a  traveling  hat  slouched  over  his  eyes,  and  a  highland 
cape  closely  buttoned  and  turned  up  so  as  to  conceal  his 
face.  You  could  make  out  no  more  of  him  than  that  he 
was,  as  I  have  said,  unusually  tall,  and  walked  feebly 
with  a  heavy  stoop.  By  his  side,  and  either  clinging  to 
him  or  giving  him  support — I  could  not  make  out  which — 
was  a  young,  tall,  and  slender  figure  of  a  woman.  She 
was  extremely  pale;  but  in  the  light  of  the  lantern  her 
face  was  so  marred  by  strong  and  changing  shadows,  that 
she  might  equally  well  have  been  as  ugly  as  sin  or  as 
beautiful  as  I  afterwards  found  her  to  be. 

When  they  were  just  abreast  of  me,  the  girl  made  some 
remark  which  was  drowned  by  the  noise  of  the  wind. 

"Hush!  "said  her  companion ;  and  there  was  something 
in  the  tone  with  which  the  word  was  uttered  that  thrilled 
and  rather  shook  my  spirits.  It  seemed  to  breathe  from  a 
bosom  laboring  under  the  deadliest  terror;  I  have  never 
heard  another  syllable  so  expressive;  and  I  still  hear  it 
again  when  I  am  feverish  at  night,  and  my  mind  runs 
upon  old  times.  The  man  turned  towards  the  girl  as  he 
spoke ;  I  had  a  glimpse  of  much  red  beard  and  a  nose  which 
seemed  to  have  been  broken  in  youth;  and  his  light  eye 
seemed  shining  in  his  face  with  some  strong  and  unpleasant 
emotion. 

But  these  two  passed  on  and  were  admitted  in  their 
turn  to  the  pavilion. 

One  by  one,  or  in  groups,  the  seamen  returned  to  the 


196  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

beach.  The  wind  brought  me  the  sound  of  a  rough  voice 
crying,  ' '  Shove  off ! "  Then,  after  a  pause,  another  lantern 
drew  near.  It  was  Northmour  alone. 

My  wife  and  I,  a  man  and  a  woman,  have  often  agreed 
to  wonder  how  a  person  could  be,  at  the  same  time,  so 
handsome  and  so  repulsive  as  Northmour.  He  had  the 
appearance  of  a  finished  gentleman;  his  face  bore  every 
mark  of  intelligence  and  courage,  but  you  had  only  to 
look  at  him,  even  in  his  most  amiable  moment,  to  see  that 
he  had  the  temper  of  a  slave  captain.  I  never  knew  a 
character  that  was  both  explosive  and  revengeful  to  the 
same  degree;  he  combined  the  vivacity  of  the  south  with 
the  sustained  and  deadly  hatreds  of  the  north;  and  both 
traits  were  plainly  written  on  his  face,  which  was  a  sort 
of  danger  signal.  In  person  he  was  tall,  strong,  and 
active;  his  hair  and  complexion  very  dark;  his  features 
handsomely  designed,  but  spoiled  by  a  menacing  expres- 
sion. 

At  that  moment  he  was  somewhat  paler  than  by  nature; 
he  wore  a  heavy  frown;  and  his  lips  worked,  and  he  looked 
sharply  round  as  he  walked,  like  a  man  besieged  with  ap- 
prehensions. And  yet  I  thought  he  had  a  look  of  triumph 
underlying  all,  as  though  he  had  already  done  much,  and 
was  near  the  end  of  an  achievement. 

Partly  from  a  scruple  of  delicacy — which  I  dare  say 
came  too  late— partly  from  the  pleasure  of  startling  an 
acquaintance,  I  desired  to  make  my  presence  known  to 
him  without  delay. 

I  got  suddenly  to  my  feet,  and  stepped  forward. 

"Northmour!"  said  I. 

I  have  never  had  so  shocking  a  surprise  in  all  my  days. 
He  leaped  on  me  without  a  word;  something  shone  in  his 
hand;  and  he  struck  for  my  heart  with  a  dagger.  At  the 
same  moment  I  knocked  him  head  over  heels.  Whether  it 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  197 

was  my  quickness,  or  his  own  uncertainty,  I  know  not; 
but  the  blade  only  grazed  my  shoulder  while  the  hilt  and 
his  fist  struck  me  violently  on  the  mouth. 

I  fled,  but  not  far.  [I  had  often  and  often  observed  the 
capabilities  of  the  sand-hills  for  protracted  ambush  or 
stealthy  advances  and  retreats;  and,  not  ten  yards  from 
the  scene  of  the  scuffle,  plumped  down  again  upon  the 
grass.  The  lantern  had  fallen  and  gone  out.  But  what 
was  my  astonishment  to  see  Northmour  slip  at  a  bound 
into  the  pavilion,  and  hear  him  bar  the  door  behind  him 
with  a  clang  of  iron! 

He  had  not  pursued  me.  He  had  run  away.  North- 
mour, whom  I  knew  for  the  most  implacable  and  daring 
of  men,  had  run  away!  I  could  scarce  believe  my  reason; 
and  yet  in  this  strange  business,  where  all  was  incredible, 
there  was  nothing  to  make  a  work  about  in  an  incredi- 
bility more  or  less.  For  why  was  the  pavilion  secretly 
prepared?  Why  had  Northmour  landed  with  his  guests  at 
dead  of  night,  in  half  a  gale  of  wind,  and  with  the  floe 
scarce  covered?  Why  had  he  sought  to  kill  me?  Had  he 
not  recognized  my  voice?  I  wondered.  And,  above  all, 
how  had  he  come  to  have  a  dagger  ready  in  his  hand?  A 
dagger,  or  even  a  sharp  knife,  seemed  out  of  keeping  with 
the  age  in  which  we  lived;  and  a  gentleman  landing  from 
his  yacht  on  the  shore  of  his  own  estate,  even  although  it 
was  at  night  and  with  some  mysterious  circumstances,  does 
not  usually,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  walk  thus  prepared  for 
deadly  onslaught.  The  more  I  reflected,  the  further  I  felt 
at  sea.  I  recapitulated  the  elements  of  mystery,  counting 
them  on  my  fingers:  the  pavilion  secretly  prepared  for 
guests;  the  guests  landed  at  the  risk  of  their  lives  and 
to  the  imminent  peril  of  the  yacht;  the  guests,  or  at  least 
one  of  them,  in  undisguised  and  seemingly  causeless  terror; 
Northmour  with  a  naked  weapon;  Northmour  stabbing 


198  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

his  most  intimate  acquaintance  at  a  word;  last,  and  not 
least  strange,  Northmour  fleeing  from  the  man  whom  he 
had  sought  to  murder,  and  barricading  himself,  like  a 
hunted  creature,  behind  the  door  of  the  pavilion.  Here 
were  at  least  six  separate  causes  for  extreme  surprise ; 
each  part  and  parcel  with  the  others,  and  forming  all  to- 
gether one  consistent  story.  I  felt  almost  ashamed  to 
believe  my  own  senses. 

As  I  thus  stood  transfixed  with  wonder,  I  began  to  grow 
painfully  conscious  of  the  injuries  I  had  received  in  the 
scuffle;  skulked  round  among  the  sand-hills;  and,  by  a 
devious  path,  regained  the  shelter  of  the  wood.  On  the 
way,  the  old  nurse  passed  again  within  several  yards  of 
me,  still  carrying  her  lantern,  on  the  return  journey  to 
the  mansion  house  of  Graden.  This  made  a  seventh  sus- 
picious feature  in  the  case.  Northmour  and  his  guests, 
it  appeared,  were  to  cook  and  do  the  cleaning  for  them- 
selves, while  the  old  woman  continued  to  inhabit  the  big 
empty  barrack  among  the  policies.  There  must  surely  be 
great  cause  for  secrecy,  when  so  many  inconveniences 
were  confronted  to  preserve  it. 

So  thinking,  I  made  my  way  to  the  den.  For  greater 
security,  I  trod  out  the  embers  of  the  fire,  and  lit  my 
lantern  to  examine  the  wound  upon  my  shoulder.  It  was 
a  trifling  hurt,  although  it  bled  somewhat  freely,  and  I 
dressed  it  as  well  as  I  could  (for  its  position  made  it 
difficult  to  reach)  with  some  rag  and  cold  water  from  the 
spring.  While  I  was  thus  busied,  I  mentally  declared  war 
against  Northmour  and  his  mystery.  I  am  not  an  angry 
man  by  nature,  and  I  believe  there  was  more  curiosity 
than  resentment  in  my  heart.  But  war  I  certainly  de- 
clared; and,  by  way  of  preparation,  I  got  out  my  revolver, 
and,  having  drawn  the  charges,  cleaned  and  reloaded  it 
with  scrupulous  care.  Next  I  became  preoccupied  about 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  199 

my  horse.  It  might  break  loose,  or  fall  to  neighing,  and 
so  betray  my  camp  in  the  Sea- Wood.  I  determined  to  rid 
myself  of  its  neighborhood;  and  long  before  dawn  I  was 
leading  it  over  the  links  in  the  direction  of  the  fisher 
village. 

CHAPTER  III 

TELLS  HOW  I  BECAME  ACQUAINTED  WITH  MY  WIFE 

For  two  days  I  skulked  round  the  pavilion,  profiting  by 
the  uneven  surface  of  the  links.  I  became  an  adept  in  the 
necessary  tactics.  These  low  hillocks  and  shallow  dells, 
running  one  into  another,  became  a  kind  of  cloak  of  dark- 
ness for  my  enthralling,  but  perhaps  dishonorable,  pursuit. 
Yet,  in  spite  of  this  advantage,  I  could  learn  but  little  of 
Northmour  or  his  guests. 

Fresh  provisions  were  brought  under  cover  of  darkness 
by  the  old  woman  from  the  mansion  house.  Northmour, 
and  the  young  lady,  sometimes  together,  but  more  often 
singly,  would  walk  for  an  hour  or  two  at  a  time  on  the 
beach  beside  the  quicksand.  I  could  not  but  conclude 
that  this  promenade  was  chosen  with  an  eye  to  secrecy; 
for  the  spot  was  open  only  to  the  seaward.  But  it  suited 
me  not  less  excellently;  the  highest  and  most  accidented 
of  the  sand-hills  immediately  adjoined;  and  from  these, 
lying  flat  in  a  hollow,  I  could  overlook  Northmour  or  the 
young  lady  as  they  walked. 

The  tall  man  seemed  to  have  disappeared.  Not  only 
did  he  never  cross  the  threshold,  but  he  never  so  much  as 
showed  face  at  a  window;  or,  at  least,  not  so  far  as  I 
could  see;  for  I  dared  not  creep  forward  beyond  a  certain 
distance  in  the  day,  since  the  upper  floor  commanded  the 
bottoms  of  the  links;  and  at  night,  when  I  could  venture 
farther,  the  lowerjwindows  were  barricaded  as  if  to  stand 


200  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

a  siege.  Sometimes  I  thought  the  tall  man  must  be  con- 
fined to  bed,  for  I  remembered  the  feebleness  of  his  gait; 
and  sometimes  I  thought  he  must  have  gone  clear  away, 
and  that  Northmour  and  the  young  lady  remained  alone 
together  in  the  pavilion.  The  idea,  even  then,  displeased 
me. 

Whether  or  not  this  pair  were  man  and  wife,  I  had  seen 
abundant  reason  to  doubt  the  friendliness  of  their  rela- 
tion. Although  I  could  hear  nothing  of  what  they  said, 
and  rarely  so  much  as  glean  a  decided  expression  on  the 
face  of  either,  there  was  a  distance,  almost  a  stiffness,  in 
their  bearing  which  showed  them  to  be  either  unfamiliar 
or  at  enmity.  The  girl  walked  faster  when  she  was  with 
Northmour  than  when  she  was  alone;  and  I  conceived  that 
any  inclination  between  a  man  and  a  woman  would  rather 
delay  than  accelerate  the  step.  Moreover,  she  kept  a 
good  yard  free  of  him,  and  trailed  her  umbrella,  as  if  it 
were  a  barrier,  on  the  side  between  them.  Northmour 
kept  sidling  closer;  and,  as  the  girl  retired  from  his 
advance,  their  course  lay  at  a  sort  of  diagonal  across  the 
beach,  and  would  have  landed  them  in  the  surf  had  it  been 
long  enough  continued.  But,  when  it  was  imminent,  the 
girl  would  unostentatiously  change  sides  and  put  North- 
mour between  her  and  the  sea.  I  watched  these  manoeu- 
vres, for  my  part,  with  high  enjoyment  and  approval,  and 
chuckled  to  myself  at  every  move. 

On  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  she  walked  alone  for 
some  time,  and  I  perceived,  to  my  great  concern,  that  she 
was  more  than  once  in  tears.  You  will  see  that  my  heart 
was  already  interested  more  than  I  supposed.  She  had  a 
firm  yet  airy  motion  of  the  body,  and  carried  her  head 
with  unimaginable  grace;  every  step  was  a  thing  to  look 
at,  and  she  seemed  in  my  eyes  to  breathe  sweetness  and 
distinction. 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  201 

The  day  was  so  agreeable,  being  calm  and  sunshiny, 
with  a  tranquil  sea,  and  yet  with  a  healthful  piquancy 
and  vigor  in  the  air,  that,  contrary  to  custom,  she  was 
tempted  forth  a  second  time  to  walk.  On  this  occasion 
she  was  accompanied  by  Northmour,  and  they  had  been 
but  a  short  while  on  the  beach,  when  I  saw  him  take 
forcible  possession  of  her  hand.  She  struggled,  and  ut- 
tered a  cry  that  was  almost  a  scream.  I  sprang  to  my 
feet,  unmindful  of  my  strange  position;  but,  ere  I  had 
taken  a  step,  I  saw  Northmour  bare-headed  and  bowing 
very  low,  as  if  to  apologize;  and  dropped  again  at  once 
into  my  ambush.  A  few  words  were  interchanged ;  and 
then,  with  another  bow.  he  left  the  beach  to  return  to  the 
pavilion.  He  passed  not  far  from  me,  and  I  could  see 
him,  flushed  and  lowering,  and  cutting  savagely  with  his 
cane  among  the  grass.  It  was  not  without  satisfaction 
that  I  recognized  my  own  handiwork  in  a  great  cut  under 
his  right  eye,  and  a  considerable  discoloration  round  the 
socket. 

For  some  time  the  girl  remained  where  he  had  left  her, 
looking  out  past  the  islet  and  over  the  bright  sea.  Then 
with  a  start,  as  one  who  throws  off  preoccupation  and 
puts  energy  again  upon  its  mettle,  she  broke  into  a  rapid 
and  decisive  walk.  She  also  was  much  incensed  by  what 
had  passed.  She  had  forgotten  where  she  was.  And  I 
beheld  her  walk  straight  into  the  borders  of  the  quicksand 
where  it  is  most  abrupt  and  dangerous.  Two  or  three 
steps  farther  and  her  life  would  have  been  in  serious 
jeopardy,  when  I  slid  down  the  face  of  the  sand-hill,  which 
is  there  precipitous,  and,  running  half-way  forward, 
called  to  her  to  stop. 

She  did  so,  and  turned  round.  There  was  not  a  tremor 
of  fear  in  her  behavior,  and  she  marched  directly  up  to 
me  like  a  queen.  I  was  barefoot,  and  clad  like  a  common 


202  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

sailor,  save  for  an  Egyptian  scarf  round  my  waist;  and 
she  probably  took  me  at  first  for  some  one  from  the  fisher 
village,  straying  after  bait.  As  for  her,  when  I  thus  saw 
her  face  to  face,  her  eyes  set  steadily  and  imperiously 
upon  mine,  I  was  filled  with  admiration  and  astonish- 
ment, and  thought  her  even  more  beautiful  than  I  had 
looked  to  find  her.  Nor  could  I  think  enough  of  one  who, 
acting  with  so  much  boldness,  yet  preserved  a  maidenly 
air  that  was  both  quaint  and  engaging;  for  my  wife  kept 
an  old-fashioned  precision  of  manner  through  all  her  ad- 
mirable life — an  excellent  thing  in  woman,  since  it  sets 
another  value  on  her  sweet  familiarities. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  she  asked. 

"You  were  walking,"  I  told  her,  "directly  into  Graden 
Floe." 

"You  do  not  belong  to  these  parts/'  she  said  again. 
"You  speak  like  an  educated  man." 

"I  believe  I  have  a  right  to  that  name,"  said  I,  "al- 
though in  this  disguise." 

But  her  woman's  eye  had  already  detected  the  sash. 

"Oh!"  she  said;  "your  sash  betrays  you." 

"You  have  said  the  word  betray,"  I  resumed.  "May  I 
ask  you  not  to  betray  me?  I  was  obliged  to  disclose 
myself  in  your  interest;  but  if  Northmour  learned  my 
presence  it  might  be  worse  than  disagreeable  for  me." 

"Do  you  know,"  she  asked,  "to  whom  you  are  speak- 
ing?" 

"Not  to  Mr.  Northmour's  wife?"  I  asked,  by  way  of 
answer. 

She  shook  her  head.  All  this  while  she  was  studying 
my  face  with  an  embarrassing  intentness.  Then  she  broke 
out — 

"You  have  an  honest  face.  Be  honest  like  your  face, 
sir,  and  tell  me  what  you  want  and  what  you  are  afraid 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  203 

of.  Do  you  think  I  could  hurt  you?  I  believe  you  have 
far  more  power  to  injure  me!  And  yet  you  do  not  look 
unkind.  What  do  you  mean — you,  a  gentleman — by 
skulking  like  a  spy  about  this  desolate  place?  Tell  me," 
she  said,  "who  is  it  you  hate?" 

"I  hate  no  one,"  I  answered;  "and  I  fear  no  one  face 
to  face.  My  name  is  Cassilis — Frank  Cassilis.  I  lead 
the  life  of  a  vagabond  for  my  own  good  pleasure.  I  am 
one  of  Northmour's  oldest  friends;  and  three  nights  ago, 
when  I  addressed  him  on  these  links,  he  stabbed  me  in  the 
shoulder  with  a  knife." 

"It  was  you!"  she  said. 

"Why  he  did  so,"  I  continued,  disregarding  the  inter- 
ruption, "is  more  than  I  can  guess,  and  more  than  I  care 
to  know.  I  have  not  many  friends,  nor  am  I  very  suscep- 
tible to  friendship;  but  no  man  shall  drive  me  from  a 
place  by  terror.  I  had  camped  in  Graden  Sea- Wood  ere 
he  came;  I  camp  in  it  still.  If  you  think  I  mean  harm  to 
you  or  yours,  madam,  the  remedy  is  in  your  hand.  Tell 
him  that  my  camp  is  in  the  Hemlock  Den,  and  [to-night 
he  can  stab  me  in  safety  while  I  sleep. ' ' 

With  this  I  doffed  my  cap  to  her,  and  scrambled  up 
once  more  among  the  sand-hills.  I  do  not  know  why,  but 
I  felt  a  prodigious  sense  of  injustice,  and  felt  like  a  hero 
and  a  martyr;  while,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  had  not  a  word 
to  say  in  my  defence,  nor  so  much  as  one  plausible  reason 
to  offer  for  my  conduct.  I  had  stayed  at  Graden  out  of  a 
curiosity  natural  enough,  but  undignified;  and  though 
there  was  another  motive  growing  in  along  with  the  first, 
it  was  not  one  which,  at  that  period,  I  could  have  properly 
explained  to  the  lady  of  my  heart. 

Certainly,  that  night,  I  thought  of  no  one  else;  and, 
though  her  whole  conduct  and  position  seemed  suspicious, 
I  could  not  find  it  in  my  heart  to  entertain  a  doubt  of  her 


204  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS  I 

integrity.  I  could  have  staked  my  life  that  she  was  clear 
of  blame,  and,  though  all  was  dark  at  the  present,  that 
the  explanation  of  the  mystery  would  show  her  part  in 
these  events  to  be  both  right  and  needful.  It  was  true, 
let  me  cudgel  my  imagination  as  I  pleased,  that  I  could 
invent  no  theory  of  her  relations  toNorthmour;  but  I  felt 
none  the  less  sure  of  my  conclusion  because  it  was  founded 
on  instinct  in  place  of  reason,  and,  as  I  may  say,  went  to 
sleep  that  night  with  the  thought  of  her  under  my  pillow. 

Next  day  she  came  out  about  the  same  hour  alone,  and, 
as  soon  as  the  sand-hills  concealed  her  from  the  pavilion, 
drew  nearer  to  the  edge,  and  called  me  by  name  in 
guarded  tones.  I  was  astonished  to  observe  that  she  was 
deadly  pale,  and  seemingly  under  the  influence  of  strong 
emotion. 

"Mr.  Cassilis!"  she  cried;  "Mr.  Cassilis!" 

I  appeared  at  once,  and  leaped  down  upon  the  beach. 
A  remarkable  air  of  relief  overspread  her  countenance  as 
soon  as  she  saw  me. 

"Oh!"  she  cried,  with  a  hoarse  sound,  like  one  whose 
bosom  has  been  lightened  of  weight.  And  then,  "Thank 
God,  you  are  still  safe!"  she  added;  "I  knew,  if  you 
were,  you  would  be  here."  (Was  not  this  strange?  So 
swiftly  and  wisely  does  Nature  prepare  our  hearts  for 
these  great  life-long  intimacies,  that  both  my  wife  and  I 
had  been  given  a  presentiment  on  this  the  second  day  of 
our  acquaintance.  I  had  even  then  hoped  that  she  would 
seek  me;  she  had  felt  sure  that  she  would  find  me.)  "Do 
not,"  she  went  on  swiftly,  "do  not  stay  in  this  place. 
Promise  me  that  you  will  sleep  no  longer  in  that  wood. 
You  do  not  know  how  I  suffer;  all  last  night  I  could  not 
sleep  for  thinking  of  your  peril." 

"Peril?"  I  repeated.  "Peril  from  whom?  From 
Northmour?" 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  205 

"Not  so,"  she  said.  "Did  you  think  I  would  tell  him 
after  what  you  said?" 

"Not  from  Northmour?"  I  repeated.  "Then  how? 
From  whom?  I  see  none  to  be  afraid  of." 

"You  must  not  ask  me,"  was  her  reply,  "for  I  am  not 
free  to  tell  you.  Only  believe  me,  and  go  hence — believe 
me,  and  go  away  quickly,  quickly,  for  your  life!" 

An  appeal  to  his  alarm  is  never  a  good  plan  to  rid 
oneself  of  a  spirited  young  man.  My  obstinacy  was  but 
increased  by  what  she  said,  and  I  made  it  a  point  of  honor 
to  remain.  And  her  solicitude  for  my  safety  still  more 
confirmed  me  in  the  resolve. 

"You  must  not  think  me  inquisitive,  madam,"  I  re- 
plied; "but,  if  Graden  is  so  dangerous  a  place,  you  your- 
self perhaps  remain  here  at  some  risk. ' ' 

She  only  looked  at  me  reproachfully. 

"You  and  your  father — ,"  I  resumed;  but  she  inter- 
rupted me  almost  with  a  gasp. 

"My  father!    How  do  you  know  that?"  she  cried. 

"I  saw  you  together  when  you  landed, ' '  was  my  answer ; 
and  I  do  not  know  why,  but  it  seemed  satisfactory  to  both 
of  us,  as  indeed  it  was  the  truth.  "But,"  I  continued, 
"you  need  have  no  fear  from  me.  I  see  you  have  some 
reason  to  be  secret,  and,  you  may  believe  me,  your  secret 
is  as  safe  with  me  as  if  I  were  in  Graden  Floe.  I  have 
scarce  spoken  to  anyone  for  years;  my  horse  is  my  only 
companion,  and  even  he,  poor  beast,  is  not  beside  me. 
You  see,  then,,  you  may  count  on  me  for  silence.  So 
tell  me  the  truth,  my  dear  young  lady,  are  you  not  in 
danger?" 

"Mr.  Northmour  says  you  are  an  honorable  man,"  she 
returned,  "and  I  believe  it  when  I  see  you.  I  will  tell 
you  so  much;  you  are  right;  we  are  in  dreadful,  dreadful 
danger,  and  you  share  it  by  remaining  where  you  are." 


206  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"Ah!"  said  I;  "you  have  heard  of  me  from  North- 
mour?  And  he  gives  me  a  good  character?" 

"I  asked  him  about  you  last  night, ' '  was  her  reply.  '  'I 
pretended,"  she  hesitated,  "I  pretended  to  have  met  you 
long  ago,  and  spoken  to  you  of  him.  It  was  not  true; 
but  I  could  not  help  myself  without  betraying  you,  and 
you  had  put  me  in  a  difficulty.  He  praised  you  highly. ' ' 

"And — you  may  permit  me  one  question — does  this 
danger  come  from  Northmour?"  I  asked. 

"From  Mr.  Northmour?"  she  cried.  "Oh,*no;  he  stays 
with  us  to  share  it." 

"While  you  propose  that  I  should  run  away?"  I  said. 
"You  do  not  rate  me  very  high." 

"Why  should  you  stay?"  she  asked.  "You  are  no 
friend  of  ours." 

I  know  not  what  came  over  me,  for  I  had  not  been  con- 
scious of  a  similar  weakness  since  I  was  a  child,  but  I  was 
so  mortified  by  this  retort  that  my  eyes  pricked  and  filled 
with  tears,  as  I  continued  to  gaze  upon  her  face. 

"No,  no,"  she  said,  in  a  changed  voice;  "I  did  not 
mean  the  words  unkindly. ' ' 

"It  was  I  who  offended,"  I  said;  and  I  held  out  my 
hand  with  a  look  of  appeal  that  somehow  touched  her,  for 
she  gave  me  hers  at  once,  and  even  eagerly.  I  held  it 
for  awhile  in  mine,  and  gazed  into  her  eyes.  It  was  she 
who  first  tore  her  hand  away,  and,  forgetting  all  about 
her  request  and  the  promise  she  had  sought  to  extort,  ran 
at  the  top  of  her  speed,  and  without  turning,  till  she  was 
out  of  sight.  And  then  I  knew  that  I  loved  her,  and 
thought  in  my  glad  heart  that  she — she  herself — was  not 
indifferent  to  my  suit.  Many  a  time  she  has  denied  it  in 
after  days,  but  it  was  with  a  smiling  and  not  a  serious 
denial.  For  my  part,  I  am  sure  our  hands  would  not  have 
lain  so  closely  in  each  other  if  she  had  not  begun  to  melt 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  207 

to  me  already.  And,  when  all  is  said,  it  is  no  great  con- 
tention, since,  by  her  own  avowal,  she  began  to  love  me 
on  the  morrow. 

And  yet  on  the  morrow  very  little  took  place.  She 
came  and  called  me  down  as  on  the  day  before,  upbraided 
me  for  lingering  at  Graden,  and,  when  she  found  I  was 
still  obdurate,  began  to  ask  me  more  particularly  as  to 
my  arrival.  I  told  her  by  what  series  of  accidents  I  had 
come  to  witness  their  disembarkation,  and  how  I  had  de- 
termined to  remain,  partly  from  the  interest  which  had 
been  wakened  in  me  by  Northmour's  guests,  and  partly 
because  of  his  own  murderous  attack.  As  to  the  former, 
I  fear  I  was  disingenuous,  and  led  her  to  regard  herself 
as  having  been  an  attraction  to  me  from  the  first  moment 
that  I  saw  her  on  the  links.  It  relieves  my  heart  to  make 
this  confession  even  now,  when  my  wife  is  with  God,  and 
already  knows  all  things,  and  the  honesty  of  my  purpose 
even  in  this;  for  while  she  lived,  although  it  often  pricked 
my  conscience,  I  had  never  the  hardihood  to  undeceive 
her.  Even  a  little  secret,  in  such  a  married  life  as  ours, 
is  like  the  rose-leaf  which  kept  the  Princess  from  her 
sleep. 

From  this  the  talk  branched  into  other  subjects,  and  I 
told  her  much  about  my  lonely  and  wandering  existence; 
she,  for  her  part,  giving  ear,  and  saying  little.  Although 
we  spoke  very  naturally,  and  latterly  on  topics  that  might 
seem  indifferent,  we  were  both  sweetly  agitated.  Too 
soon  it  was  time  for  her  to  go;  and  we  separated,  as  if 
by  mutual  consent,  without  shaking  hands,  for  both  knew 
that,  between  us,  it  was  no  idle  ceremony. 

The  next,  and  that  was  the  fourth  day  of  our  acquaint- 
ance, we  met  in  the  same  spot,  but  early  in  the  morning, 
with  much  familiarity  and  yet  much  timidity  on  either 
side.  When  she  had  once  more  spoken  about  my  danger 


208  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

— and  that,  I  understood,  was  her  excuse  for  coming — I, 
who  had  prepared  a  great  deal  of  talk  during  the  night, 
began  to  tell  her  how  highly  I  valued  her  kind  interest, 
and  how  no  one  had  ever  cared  to  hear  about  my  life,  nor 
had  I  ever  cared  to  relate  it,  before  yesterday.  Suddenly 
she  interrupted  me,  saying  with  vehemence: 

"And  yet,  if  you  knew  who  I  was,  you  would  not  so 
much  as  speak  to  me!" 

I  told  her  such  a  thought  was  madness,  and,  little  as  we 
had  met,  I  counted  her  already  a  dear  friend;  but  my 
protestations  seemed  only  to  make  her  more  desperate. 

"My  father  is  in  hiding!"  she  cried. 

"My  dear,"  I  said,  forgetting  for  the  first  time  to  add 
"young  lady,"  "what  do  I  care?  If  he  were  in  hiding 
twenty  times  over,  would  it  make  one  thought  of  change 
in  you?" 

"Ah,  but  the  cause!"  she  cried,  "the  cause!  It  is — " 
she  faltered  for  a  second — "it  is  disgraceful  to  us!" 


CHAPTER  IV 

TELLS      IN     WHAT      A     STARTLING     MANNER     I      LEARNED 
THAT  I  WAS  NOT  ALONE  IN  GRADEN  SEA-WOOD 

This  was  my  wife's  story,  as  I  drew  it  from  her  among 
tears  and  sobs.  Her  name  was  Clara  Huddlestone:  it 
sounded  very  beautiful  in  my  ears;  but  not  so  beautiful 
as  that  other  name  of  Clara  Cassilis,  which  she  wore  dur- 
ing the  longer  and,  I  thank  God,  the  happier  portion  of 
her  life.  Her  father,  Bernard  Huddlestone,  had  been  a 
private  banker  in  a  very  large  way  of  business.  Many 
years  before,  his  affairs  becoming  disordered,  he  had  been 
led  to  try  dangerous,  and  at  last  criminal,  expedients  to 
retrieve  himself  from  ruin.  All  was  in  vain;  he  became 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  209 

more  and  more  cruelly  involved,  and  found  his  honor  lost 
at  the  same  moment  with  his  fortune.  About  this  period, 
Northmour  had  been  courting  his  daughter  with  great 
assiduity,  though  with  small  encouragement;  and  to  him, 
knowing  him  thus  disposed  in  his  favor,  Bernard  Huddle- 
stone  turned  for  help  in  his  extremity.  It  was  not  merely 
ruin  and  dishonor,  nor  merely  a  legal  condemnation,  that 
the  unhappy  man  had  brought  on  his  head.  It  seems  he 
could  have  gone  to  prison  with  a  light  heart.  What  he 
feared,  what  kept  him  awake  at  night  or  recalled  him 
from  slumber  into  frenzy,  was  some  secret,  sudden,  and 
unlawful  attempt  upon  his  life.  Hence,  he  desired  to 
bury  his  existence  and  escape  to  one  of  the  islands  in  the 
South  Pacific,  and  it  was  in  Northmour's  yacht,  the  Red 
Earl,  that  he  designed  to  go.  The  yacht  picked  them  up 
clandestinely  upon  the  coast  of  Wales,  and  had  once  more 
deposited  them  at  Graden,  till  she  could  be  refitted  and 
provisioned  for  the  longer  voyage.  Nor  could  Clara 
doubt  that  her  hand  had  been  stipulated  as  the  price  of 
passage.  For,  although  Northmour  was  neither  unkind 
or  discourteous,  he  had  shown  himself  in  several  in- 
stances somewhat  overbold  in  speech  and  manner. 

I  listened,  I  need  not  say,  with  fixed  attention,  and 
put  many  questions  as  to  the  more  mysterious  part.  It 
was  in  vain.  She  had  no  clear  idea  of  what  the  blow 
was,  nor  of  how  it  was  expected  to  fall.  Her  father's 
alarm  was  unfeigned  and  physically  prostrating,  and  he 
had  thought  more  than  once  of  making  an  unconditional 
surrender  to  the  police.  But  the  scheme  was  finally 
abandoned,  for  he  was  convinced  that  not  even  the 
strength  of  our  English  prisons  could  shelter  him  from 
his  pursuers.  He  had  had  many  affairs  with  Italy,  and 
with  Italians  resident  in  London,  in  the  later  years  of  his 
business;  and  these  last,  as  Clara  fancied,  were  somehow 


210  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

connected  with  the  doom  that  threatened  him.  He  had 
shown  great  terror  at  the  presence  of  an  Italian  seaman 
on  board  the  Red  Earl,  and  had  bitterly  and  repeatedly 
accused  Northmour  in  consequence.  The  latter  had  pro- 
tested that  Beppo  (that  was  the  seaman's  name)  was  a 
capital  fellow,  and  could  be  trusted  to  the  death;  but  Mr. 
Huddlestone  had  continued  ever  since  to  declare  that  all 
was  lost,  that  it  was  only  a  question  of  days,  and  that 
Beppo  would  be  the  ruin  of  him  yet. 

I  regarded  the  whole  story  as  the  hallucination  of  a 
mind  shaken  by  calamity.  He  had  suffered  heavy  loss  by 
his  Italian  transactions;  and  hence  the  sight  of  an  Italian 
was  hateful  to  him,  and  the  principal  part  in  his  night- 
mare would  naturally  enough  be  played  by  one  of  that 
nation. 

"What  your  father  wants,"  I  said,  "is  a  good  doctor 
and  some  calming  medicine," 

"But  Mr.  Northmour?"  objected  your  mother.  "He 
is  untroubled  by  losses,  and  yet  he  shares  in  this  terror. ' ' 

I  could  not  help  laughing  at  what  I  considered  her 
simplicity. 

"My  dear,"  said  I,  "you  have  told  me  yourself  what 
reward  he  has  to  look  for.  All  is  fair  in  love,  you  must 
remember;  and  if  Northmour  foments  your  father's  ter- 
rors, it  is  not  at  all  because  he  is  afraid  of  any  Italian 
man,  but  simply  because  he  is  infatuated  with  a  charming 
English  woman. ' ' 

She  reminded  me  of  his  attack  upon  myself  on  the  night 
of  the  disembarkation,  and  this  I  was  unable  to  explain. 
In  short,  and  from  one  thing  to  another,  it  was  agreed 
between  us,  that  I  should  set  out  at  once  for  the  fisher 
village,  Graden  Wester,  as  it  was  called,  look  up  all  the 
newspapers  I  could  find,  and  see  for  myself  if  there  seemed 
any  basis  of  fact  for  these  continued  alarms.  The  next 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  211 

morning,  at  the  same  hour  and  place,  I  was  to  make  my 
report  to  Clara.  She  said  no  more  on  that  occasion  about 
my  departure;  nor  indeed,  did  she  make  it  a  secret  that 
she  clung  to  the  thought  of  my  proximity  as  something 
helpful  and  pleasant;  and,  for  my  part,  I  could  not  have 
left  her,  if  she  had  gone  upon  her  knees  to  ask  it. 

I  reached  Graden  Wester  before  ten  in  the  forenoon ; 
for  in  those  days  I  was  an  excellent  pedestrian,  and  the 
distance,  as  I  think  I  have  said,  was  little  over  seven 
miles;  fine  walking  all  the  way  upon  the  springy  turf. 
The  village  is  one  of  the  bleakest  on  that  coast,  which  is 
saying  much:  there  is  a  church  in  a  hollow,  a  miserable 
haven  in  the  rocks,  where  many  boats  have  been  lost  as 
they  returned  from  fishing;  two  or  three  score  of  stone 
houses  arranged  along  the  beach  and  in  two  streets,  one 
leading  from  the  harbor,  and  another  striking  out  from  it 
at  right  angles;  and,  at  the  corner  of  these  two,  a  very 
dark  and  cheerless  tavern,  by  way  of  principal  hotel. 

I  had  dressed  myself  somewhat  more  suitably  to  my 
station  in  life,  and  at  once  called  upon  the  minister  in 
his  little  manse  beside  the  graveyard.  He  knew  me,  al- 
though it  was  more  than  nine  years  since  we  had  met; 
and  when  I  told  him  that  I  had  been  long  upon  a  walking 
tour,  and  was  behind  with  the  news,  readily  lent  me  an 
armful  of  newspapers,  dating  from  a  month  back  to  the 
day  before.  With  these  I  sought  the  tavern,  and,  order- 
ing some  breakfast,  sat  down  to  study  the  "Huddlestone 
Failure." 

It  had  been,  it  appeared,  a  very  flagrant  case.  Thou- 
sands of  persons  were  reduced  to  poverty;  and  one  in 
particular  had  blown  out  his  brains  as  soon  as  payment 
was  suspended.  It  was  strange  to  myself  that,  while  I 
read  these  details,  I  continued  rather  to  sympathize  with 
Mr.  Huddlestone  than  with  his  victims;  so  complete  al- 


212  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

ready  was  the  empire  of  my  love  for  my  wife.  A  price 
was  naturally  set  upon  the  banker's  head;  and,  as  the 
case  was  inexcusable  and  the  public  indignation  thor- 
oughly aroused,  the  unusual  figure  of  750 J.  was  offered 
for  his  capture.  He  was  reported  to  have  large  sums  of 
money  in  his  possession.  One  day,  he  had  been  heard  of 
in  Spain;  the  next,  there  was  sure  intelligence  that  he 
was  still  lurking  between  Manchester  and  Liverpool,  or 
along  the  border  of  Wales;  and  the  day  after,  a  telegram 
would  announce  his  arrival  in  Cuba  or  Yucatan.  But  in 
all  this  there  was  no  word  of  an  Italian,  nor  any  sign  of 
mystery. 

In  the  very  last  paper,  however,  there  was  one  item  not 
so  clear.  The  accountants  who  were  charged  to  verify 
the  failure  had,  it  seemed,  come  upon  the  traces  of  a  very 
large  number  of  thousands,  which  figured  for  some  time 
in  the  transactions  of  the  house  of  Huddlestone;  but  which 
came  from  nowhere,  and  disappeared  in  the  same  mysteri- 
ous fashion.  It  was  only  once  referred  to  by  name,  and 
then  under  the  initials  "X.  X.";  but  it  had  plainly  been 
floated  for  the  first  time  into  the  business  at  a  period  of 
great  depression  some  six  years  ago.  The  name  of  a  dis- 
tinguished Royal  personage  had  been  mentioned  by  rumor 
in  connection  with  this  sum.  "The  cowardly  desperado" 
— such,  I  remember,  was  the  editorial  expression — was 
supposed  to  have  escaped  with  a  large  part  of  this  mys- 
terious fund  still  in  his  possession. 

I  was  still  brooding  over  the  fact,  and  trying  to  torture 
it  into  some  connection  with  Mr.  Huddlestone's  danger, 
when  a  man  entered  the  tavern  and  asked  for  some  bread 
and  cheese,  with  a  decided  foreign  accent. 

"Siete  Italiano?"  said  I. 

"Si  signor,"  was  his  reply. 

I  said  it  was  unusually  far  north  to  find  one  of  his  com- 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  213 

patriots;  at  which  he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  replied 
that  a  man  would  go  anywhere  to  find  work.  What  work 
he  could  hope  to  find  at  Graden  Wester,  I  was  totally  un- 
able to  conceive;  and  the  incident  struck  so  unpleasantly 
upon  my  mind,  that  I  asked  the  landlord,  while  he  was 
counting  me  some  change,  whether  he  had  ever  before 
seen  an  Italian  in  the  village.  He  said  he  had  once  seen 
some  Norwegians,  who  had  been  shipwrecked  on  the  other 
side  of  Graden  Ness  and  rescued  by  the  lifeboat  from 
Cauld-haven. 

"No!"  said  I;  "but  an  Italian,  like  the  man  who  has 
just  had  bread  and  cheese." 

"What?"  cried  he,  "yon  black-avised  fellow  wi'  the 
teeth?  Was  he  an  I-talian?  Weel,  yon's  the  first  that 
ever  I  saw,  an'  I  dare  say  he's  like  to  be  the  last." 

Even  as  he  was  speaking,  I  raised  my  eyes,  and,  casting 
a  glance  into  the  street,  beheld  three  men  in  earnest  con- 
versation together,  and  not  thirty  yards  away.  One  of 
them  was  my  recent  companion  in  the  tavern  parlor;  the 
other  two,  by  their  handsome,  sallow  features  and  soft 
hats,  should  evidently  belong  to  the  same  race.  A  crowd 
of  village  children  stood  around  them,  gesticulating  and 
talking  gibberish  in  imitation.  The  trio  looked  singularly 
foreign  to  the  bleak  dirty  street  in  which  they  were 
standing,  and  the  dark  gray  heaven  that  overspread  them; 
and  I  confess  my  incredulity  received  at  that  moment  a 
shock  from  which  it  never  recovered.  I  might  reason 
with  myself  as  I  pleased,  but  I  could  not  argue  down  the 
effect  of  what  I  had  seen,  and  I  began  to  share  in  the 
Italian  terror. 

It  was  already  drawing  towards  the  close  of  the  day 
before  I  had  returned  the  newspapers  at  the  manse,  and 
got  well  forward  on  to  the  links  on  my  way  home.  I 
shall  never  forget  that  walk.  It  grew  very  cold  and  bois- 


214  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

terous;  the  wind  sang  in  the  short  grass  about  my  feet; 
thin  rain  showers  came  running  on  the  gusts;  and  an 
immense  mountain  range  of  clouds  began  to  arise  out  of 
the  bosom  of  the  sea.  It  would  be  hard  to  imagine  a 
more  dismal  evening;  and  whether  it  was  from  these 
external  influences,  or  because  my  nerves  were  already 
affected  by  what  I  had  heard  and  seen,  my  thoughts  were 
as  gloomy  as  the  weather. 

The  upper  windows  of  the  pavilion  commanded  a  consid- 
erable spread  of  links  in  the  direction  of  Graden  Wester. 
To  avoid  observation,  it  was  necessary  to  hug  the  beach 
until  I  had  gained  cover  from  the  higher  sand-hills  on  the 
little  headland,  when  I  might  strike  across,  through  the 
hollows,  for  the  margin  of  the  wood.  The  sun  was  about 
setting;  the  tide  was  low,  and  all  the  quicksands  uncov- 
ered; and  I  was  moving  along,  lost  in  unpleasant  thought, 
when  I  was  suddenly  thunderstruck  to  perceive  the  prints 
of  human  feet.  They  ran  parallel  to  my  own  course,  but 
low  down  upon  the  beach  instead  of  along  the  border  of 
the  turf;  and,  when  I  examined  them,  I  saw  at  once,  by 
the  size  and  coarseness  of  the  impression,  that  it  was  a 
stranger  to  me  and  to  those  in  the  pavilion  who  had  re- 
cently passed  that  way.  Not  only  so;  but  from  the  reck- 
lessness of  the  course  which  he  had  followed,  steering 
near  to  the  most  formidable  portions  of  the  sand,  he  was 
as  evidently  a  stranger  to  the  country  and  to  the  ill- 
repute  of  Graden  beach. 

Step  by  step  I  followed  the  prints;  until,  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  further,  I  beheld  them  die  away  into  the  south- 
eastern boundary  of  Graden  Floe.  There,  whoever  he 
was,  the  miserable  man  had  perished.  One  or  two  gulls, 
who  had,  perhaps,  seen  him  disappear,  wheeled  over  his 
sepulchre  with  their  usual  melancholy  piping.  The  sun 
had  broken  through  the  clouds  by  a  last  effort,  and  colored 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  215 

the  wide  level  of  quicksands  with  a  dusky  purple.  I  stood 
for  some  time  gazing  at  the  spot,  chilled  and  disheart- 
ened by  my  own  reflections,  and  with  a  strong  and  com- 
manding consciousness  of  death.  I  remember  wondering 
how  long  the  tragedy  had  taken,  and  whether  his  screams 
had  been  audible  at  the  pavilion.  And  then,  making  a 
strong  resolution,  I  was  about  to  tear  myself  away,  when 
a  gust  fiercer  than  usual  fell  upon  this  quarter  of  the 
beach,  and  I  saw  now,  whirling  high  in  air,  now  skim- 
ming lightly  across  the  surface  of  the  sands,  a  soft,  black, 
felt  hat,  somewhat  conical  in  shape,  such  as  I  had  remarked 
already  on  the  heads  of  the  Italians. 

I  believe,  but  I  am  not  sure,  that  I  uttered  a  cry.  The 
wind  was  driving  the  hat  shoreward,  and  I  ran  round  the 
border  of  the  floe  to  be  ready  against  its  arrival.  The 
gust  fell,  dropping  the  hat  for  a  while  upon  the  quick- 
sand, and  then,  once  more  freshening,  landed  it  a  few 
yards  from  where  I  stood.  I  seized  it  with  the  interest 
you  may  imagine.  It  had  seen  some  service;  indeed,  it 
was  rustier  than  either  of  those  I  had  seen  that  day  upon 
the  street.  The  lining  was  red,  stamped  with  the  name 
of  the  maker,  which  I  have  forgotten,  and  that  of  the 
place  of  manufacture,  Venedig.  This  (it  is  not  yet  for- 
gotten) was  the  name  given  by  the  Austrians  to  the  beau- 
tiful city  of  Venice,  then,  and  for  long  after,  a  part  of 
their  dominions. 

The  shock  was  complete.  I  saw  imaginary  Italians  upon 
every  side;  and  for  the  first,  and,  I  may  say,  for  the  last 
time  in  my  experience,  became  overpowered  by  what  is 
called  panic  terror.  I  knew  nothing,  that  is,  to  be  afraid 
of,  and  yet  I  admit  that  I  was  heartily  afraid;  and  it  was 
with  a  sensible  reluctance  that  I  returned  to  my  exposed 
and  solitary  camp  in  the  Sea- Wood. 

There  I  ate  some  cold  porridge  which  had  been  left  over 


216  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

from  the  night  before,  for  I  was  disinclined  to  make  a 
fire;  and,  feeling  strengthened  and  reassured,  dismissed 
all  these  fanciful  terrors  from  my  mind,  and  lay  down  to 
sleep  with  composure. 

How  long  I  may  have  slept  it  is  impossible  for  me  to 
guess;  but  I  was  awakened  at  last  by  a  sudden,  blinding 
flash  of  light  into  my  face.  It  woke  me  like  a  blow.  In 
an  instant  I  was  upon  my  knees.  But  the  light  had  gone 
as  suddenly  as  it  came.  The  darkness  was  intense.  And, 
as  it  was  blowing  great  guns  from  the  sea  and  pouring 
with  rain,  the  noises  of  the  storm  effectually  concealed 
all  others. 

It  was,  I  dare  say,  half  a  minute  before  I  regained  my 
self-possession.  But  for  two  circumstances,  I  should  have 
thought  I  had  been  awakened  by  some  new  and  vivid  form 
of  nightmare.  First,  the  flap  of  my  tent,  which  I  had 
shut  carefully  when  I  retired,  was  now  unfastened ;  and, 
second,  I  could  still  perceive,  with  a  sharpness  that  ex- 
cluded any  theory  of  hallucination,  the  smell  of  hot  metal 
and  of  burning  oil.  The  conclusion  was  obvious.  I  had 
been  awakened  by  some  one  flashing  a  bull's-eye  lantern 
in  my  face.  It  had  been  but  a  flash,  and  away.  He  had 
seen  my  face,  andj  then  gone.  I  asked  myself  the  object 
of  so  strange  a  proceeding,  and  the  answer  came  pat. 
The  man,  whoever  he  was,  had  thought  to  recognize 
me,  and  he  had  not.  There  was  yet  another  question 
unsolved;  and  to  this,  I  may  say,  I  feared  to  give  an 
answer;  if  he  had  recognized  me,  what  would  he  have 
done? 

My  fears  were  immediately  diverted  from  myself,  for  I 
saw  that  I  had  been  visited  in  a  mistake;  and  I  became 
persuaded  that  some  dreadful  danger  threatened  the  pa- 
vilion. It  required  some  nerve  to  issue  forth  into  the 
black  and  intricate  thicket  which  surrounded  and  over- 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  217 

hung  the  den;  but  I  groped  my  way  to  the  links,  drenched 
with  rain,  beaten  upon  and  deafened  by  the  gusts,  and 
fearing  at  every  step  to  lay  my  hand  upon  some  lurking 
adversary.  The  darkness  was  so  complete  that  I  might 
have  been  surrounded  by  an  army  and  yet  none  the  wiser, 
and  the  uproar  of  the  gale  so  loud  that  my  hearing  was  as 
useless  as  my  sight. 

For  the  rest  of  the  night,  which  seemed  interminably 
long,  I  patroled  the  vicinity  of  the  pavilion,  without  see- 
ing a  living  creature  or  hearing  any  noise  but  the  concert 
of  the  wind,  the  sea,  and  the  rain.  A  light  in  the  upper 
story  filtered  through  a  cranny  in  the  shutter,  and,  kept 
me  company  till  the  approach  of  dawn. 


CHAPTER  V 

TELLS  OP  AN  INTERVIEW  BETWEEN  NORTHMOUR,   CLARA, 

AND   MYSELF 

With  the  first  peep  of  day,  I  retired  from  the  open  to 
my  old  lair  among  the  sand-hills,  there  to  await  the  com- 
ing of  my  wife.  The  morning  was  gray,  wild,  and  melan- 
choly; the  wind  moderated  before  sunrise,  and  then  went 
about,  and  blew  in  puffs  from  the  shore;  the  sea  began  to 
go  down,  but  the  rain  still  fell  without  mercy.  Over  all 
the  wilderness  of  links  there  was  not  a  creature  to  be  seen. 
Yet  I  felt  sure  the  neighborhood  was  alive  with  skulking 
foes.  The  light  had  been  so  suddenly  and  surprisingly 
flashed  upon  my  face  as  I  lay  sleeping,  and  the  hat  that 
had  been  blown  ashore  by  the  wind  from  over  Graden 
Floe,  were  two  speaking  signals  of  the  peril  that  environed 
Clara  and  the  party  in  the  pavilion. 

It  was,  perhaps,  half-past  seven,  or  nearer  eight,  before 
I  saw  the  door  open,  and  that  dear  figure  come  toward* 


218  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

me  in  the  rain.  I  was  waiting  for  her  on  the  beach  before 
she  had  crossed  the  sand-hills. 

"I  have  had  such  trouble  to  come!"  she  cried.  "They 
did  not  wish  me  to  go  walking  in  the  rain." 

"Clara,"  I  said,  "you  are  not  frightened!" 

"No,"  said  she,  with  a  simplicity  that  filled  my  heart 
with  confidence.  For  my  wife  was  the  bravest  as  well  as 
the  best  of  women;  in  my  experience,  I  have  not  found 
the  two  go  always  together,  but  with  her  they  did ;  and 
she  combined  the  extreme  of  fortitude  with  the  most 
endearing  and  beautiful  virtues. 

I  told  her  what  had  happened ;  and,  though  her  cheek 
grew  visibly  paler,  she  retained  perfect  control  over  her 
senses. 

'  'You  see  now  that  I  am  safe, ' '  said  I  in  conclusion. 
"They  do  not  mean  to  harm  me;  for,  had  they  chosen,  I 
was  a  dead  man  last  night." 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  my  arm. 

"And  I  had  no  presentiment!"  she  cried. 

Her  accent  thrilled  me  with  delight.  I  put  my  arm 
about  her,  and  strained  her  to  my  side;  and,  before  either 
of  us  was  aware,  her  hands  were  on  my  shoulders  and  my 
lips  upon  her  mouth.  Yet  up  to  that  moment  no  word  of 
love  had  passed  between  us.  To  this  time  I  remember  the 
touch  of  her  cheek,  which  was  wet  and  cold  with  the  rain; 
and  many  a  time  since,  when  she  has  been  washing  her 
face,  I  have  kissed  it  again  for  the  sake  of  that  morning 
on  the  beach.  Now  that  she  is  taken  from  me,  and  I 
finish  my  pilgrimage  alone,  I  recall  our  old  loving  kind- 
ness and  the  deep  honesty  and  affection  which  united  us, 
and  my  present  loss  seems  but  a  trifle  in  comparison. 

We  may  have  thus  stood  for  some  seconds — for  time 
passes  quickly  with  lovers — before  we  were  startled  by  a 
peal  of  laughter  close  at  hand.  It  was  not  natural  mirth. 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  219 

but  seemed  to  be  affected  in  order  to  conceal  an  angrier 
feeling.  We  both  turned,  though  I  still  kept  my  left  arm 
about  Clara's  waist;  nor  did  she  seek  to  withdraw  herself; 
and  there,  a  few  paces  off  upon  the  beach,  stood  North- 
mour,  his  head  lowered,  his  hands  behind  his  back,  his 
nostrils  white  with  passion. 

"Ah!  Cassilis!"  he  said,  as  I  disclosed  my  face. 

"That  same,"  said  I;  for  I  was  not  at  all  put  about. 

"And  so,  Miss  Huddlestone, "  he  continued  slowly  but 
savagely,  "this  is  how  you  keep  your  faith  to  your  father 
and  to  me?  This  is  the  value  you  set  upon  your  father's 
life?  And  you  are  so  infatuated  with  this  young  gentle- 
man that  you  must  brave  ruin,  and  decency,  and  common 
human  caution " 

"Miss  Huddlestone — "  I  was  beginning  to  interrupt 
him,  when  he,  in  his  turn,  cut  in  brutally: 

"You  hold  your  tongue,"  said  he;  "I  am  speaking  to 
that  girl." 

"That  girl,  as  you  call  her,  is  my  wife,"  said  I;  and 
my  wife  only  leaned  a  little  nearer,  so  that  I  knew  she 
had  affirmed  my  words. 

"Your  what?"  he  cried.     "You  lie!" 

"Northmour,"  I  said,  "we  all  know  you  have  a  bad 
temper,  and  I  am  the  last  man  to  be  irritated  by  words. 
For  all  that,  I  propose  that  you  speak  lower,  for  I  am 
convinced  that  we  are  not  alone." 

He  looked  round  him,  and  it  was  plain  my  remark  had 
in  some  degree  sobered  his  passion.  "What  do  you 
mean!"  he  asked. 

I  only  said  one  word:  "Italians." 

He  swore  a  round  oath,  and  looked  at  us,  from  one  to 
the  other. 

"Mr.  Cassilis  knows  all  that  I  know,"  said  my  wife. 

"What  I  want  to  know,"  he  broke  out,  "is  where  the 


220  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

devil  Mr.  Cassilis  comes  from,  and  what  the  devil  Mr. 
Cassilis  is  doing  here.  You  say  you  are  married;  that  I 
do  not  believe.  If  you  were,  Graden  Floe  would  soon 
divorce  you;  four  minutes  and  a  half,  Cassilis,  I  keep  my 
private  cemetery  for  my  friends. ' ' 

"It  took  somewhat  longer,"  said  I,  "for  that  Italian." 

He  looked  at  me  for  a  moment  half  daunted,  and  then, 
almost  civilly,  asked  me  to  tell  my  story.  "You  have  too 
much  the  advantage  of  me,  Cassilis,"  he  added.  I  com- 
plied, of  course;  and  he  listened,  with  several  ejacula- 
tions, while  I  told  him  how  I  had  come  to  Graden;  that  it 
was  I  whom  he  had  tried  to  murder  on  the  night  of  land- 
ing; and  what  I  had  subsequently  seen  and  heard  of  ^  the 
Italians. 

"Well,"  said  he,  when  I  had  done,  "it  is  here  at  last; 
there  is  no  mistake  about  that.  And  what,  may  I  ask,  do 
you  propose  to  do?" 

"I  propose  to  stay  with  you  and  lend  a  hand,"  said  I. 

"You  are  a  brave  man,"  he  returned,  with  a  peculiar 
intonation. 

"I  am  not  afraid,"  said  I. 

"And  so,"  he  continued,  "I  am  to  understand  that  you 
two  are  married?  And  you  stand  up  to  it  before  my  face, 
Miss  Huddlestone?" 

"We  are  not  yet  married,"  said  Clara;  "but  we  shall 
be  as  soon  as  we  can. ' ' 

' ' Bravo ! ' '  cried  Northmour.  '  'And  the  bargain ?  D — n 
it,  you're  not  a  fool,  young  woman;  I  may  call  a  spade  a 
spade  with  you.  How  about  the  bargain?  You  know  as 
well  as  I  do  what  your  father's  life  depends  upon.  I  have 
only  to  put  my  hands  under  my  coat-tails  and  walk  away, 
and  his  throat  would  be  cut  before  the  evening. ' ' 

"Yes,  Mr.  Northmour,"  returned  Clara,  with  great 
spirit;  "but  that  is  what  you  will  never  do.  You  made  a 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  221 

bargain  that  was  unworthy  of  a  gentleman ;  but  you  are 
a  gentleman  for  all  that,  and  you  will  never  desert  a  man 
whom  you  have  begun  to  help. ' ' 

"Aha!"  said  he.  "You  think  I  will  give  my  yacht  for 
nothing?  You  think  I  will  risk  my  life  and  liberty  for 
love  of  the  old  gentleman;  and  then,  I  suppose,  be  best 
man  at  the  wedding,  to  wind  up?  Well,"  he  added, 
with  an  odd  smile,  "perhaps  you  are  not  altogether 
wrong.  But  ask  Cassilis  here.  He  knows  me.  Am  I 
a  man  to  trust?  Am  I  safe  and  scrupulous?  Am 
I  kind?" 

"I  know  you  talk  a  great  deal,  and  sometimes,  I  think, 
very  foolishly,"  replied  Clara,  "but  I  know  you  are  a 
gentleman,  and  I  am  not  in  the  least  afraid." 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  peculiar  approval  and  admira- 
tion; then,  turning  to  me,  "Do  you  think  I  would  give 
her  up  without  a  struggle,  Frank?"  said  he.  "I  tell 
you  plainly,  you  look  out.  The  next  time  we  come  to 
blows " 

"Will  make  the  third,"  I  interrupted,  smiling. 

"Aye,  true;  so  it  will,"  he  said.  "I  had  forgotten. 
Well,  the  third  time's  lucky." 

"The  third  time,  you  mean,  you  will  have  the  crew  of 
the  Red  Earl  to  help,"  I  said. 

"Do  you  hear  him?"  he  asked,  turning  to  my  wife. 

"I  hear  two  men  speaking  like  [cowards,"  said  she. 
"I  should  despise  myself  either  to  think  or  speak  like 
that.  And  neither  of  you  believe  one  word  that  you  are 
saying,  which  makes  it  the  more  wicked  and  silly. ' ' 

"She's  a  trump !"  cried  Northmour.  "But  she's  not 
yet  Mrs.  Cassilis.  I  say  no  more.  The  present  is  not 
for  me." 

Then  my  wife  surprised  me. 

"I  leave  you  here,"  she  said  suddenly.     "My  father 


222  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

has  been  too  long  alone.  But  remember  this:  you  are  to 
be  friends,  for  you  are  both  good  friends  to  me." 

She  has  since  told  me  her  reason  for  this  step.  As  long 
as  she  remained,  she  declares  that  we  two  would  have 
continued  to  quarrel;  and  I  suppose  that  she  was  right, 
for  when  she  was  gone  we  fell  at  once  into  a  sort  of 
confidentiality. 

Northmour  stared  after  her  as  she  went  away  over  the 
sand-hill. 

"She  is  the  only  woman  in  the  world!"  he  exclaimed 
with  an  oath.  "Look  at  her  action." 

I,  for  my  part,  leaped  at  this  opportunity  for  a  little 
further  light. 

"See  here,  Northmour,"  said  I;  "we  are  all  in  a  tight 
place,  are  we  not?" 

"I  believe  you,  my  boy,"  he  answered,  looking  me  in 
the  eyes,  and  with  great  emphasis.  "We  have  all  hell 
upon  us,  that's  the  truth.  You  may  believe  me  or  not, 
but  I'm  afraid  of  my  life." 

"Tell  me  one  thing,"  said  I.  "What  are  they  after, 
these  Italians?  What  do  they  want  with  Mr.  Huddle- 
stone?" 

"Don't  you  know?"  he  cried.  "The  black  old  scamp 
had  carbonaro  funds  on  a  deposit  —  two  hundred  and 
eighty  thousand;  and  of  course  he  gambled  it  away 
on  stocks.  There  was  to  have  been  a  revolution  in  the 
Tridentino,  or  Parma;  but  the  revolution  is  off,  and  the 
whole  wasp's  nest  is  after  Huddlestone.  We  shall  all  be 
lucky  if  we  can  save  our  skins." 

"The  carbonari!"  I  exclaimed;  "God  help  him  in- 
deed!" 

"Amen!"  said  Northmour.  "And  now,  look  here:  I 
have  said  that  we  are  in  a  fix;  and,  frankly,  I  shall  be 
glad  of  your  help.  If  I  car 't  save  Huddlestone,  I  want 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  223 

at  least  to  save  the  girl.  Come  and  stay  in  the  pavilion; 
and,  there's  my  hand  on  it,  I  shall  act  as  your  friend 
until  the  old  man  is  either  clear  or  dead.  But,"  he 
added,  "once  that  is  settled,  you  become  my  rival  once 
again,  and  I  warn  you — mind  yourself." 

"Done!"  said  I;  and  we  shook  hands. 

"And  now  let  us  go  directly  to  the  fort,"  said  North- 
mour;  and  he  began  to  lead  the  way  through  the  rain. 


CHAPTER  VI 

TELLS  OF  MY  INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  TALL  MAN 

We  were  admitted  to  the  pavilion  by  Clara,  and  I  was 
surprised  by  the  completeness  and  security  of  the  de- 
fences. A  barricade  of  great  strength,  and  yet  easy  to 
displace,  supported  the  door  against  any  violence  from 
without;  and  the  shutters  of  the  dining-room,  into  which 
I  was  led  directly,  and  which  was  feebly  illuminated  by  a 
lamp,  were  even  more  elaborately  fortified.  The  panels 
were  strengthened  by  bars  and  cross-bars;  and  these,  in 
their  turn,  were  kept  in  position  by  a  system  of  braces 
and  struts,  some  abutting  on  the  floor,  some  on  the  roof, 
and  others,  in  fine,  against  the  opposite'wall  of  the  apart- 
ment. It  was  at  once  a  solid  and  well-designed  piece  of 
carpentry;  and  I  did  not  seek  to  conceal  my  admiration. 

"I  am  the  engineer,"  said  Northmour.  "You  remem- 
ber the  planks  in  the  garden?  Behold  them?" 

"I  did  not  know  you  had  so  many  talents,"  said  I. 

"Are  you  armed?"  he  continued,  pointing  to  an  array 
of  guns  and  pistols,  all  in  "admirable  order,  which  stood 
in  line  against  the  wall  or  were  displayed  upon  the  side- 
board. 
,      "Thank  you,"  I  returned;  "I  have  gone  armed  since 


224  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

our  last  encounter.    But,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  have  had 
nothing  to  eat  since  early  yesterday  evening." 

Northmour  produced  some  cold  meat,  to  which  I 
eagerly  set  myself,  and  a  bottle  of  good  Burgundy,  by 
which,  wet  as  I  was,  I  did  not  scruple  to  profit.  I  have 
always  been  an  extreme  temperance  man  on  principle; 
but  it  is  useless  to  push  principle  to  excess,  and  on  this 
occasion  I  believe  that  I  finished  three-quarters  of  the 
bottle.  As  I  ate,  I  still  continued  to  admire  the  prepa- 
rations for  defence. 

"We  could  stand  a  siege,"  I  said  at  length. 

"Ye — es,"  drawled  Northmour;  "a  very  little  one, 
per — haps.  It  is  not  so  much  the  strength  of  the  pavilion 
I  misdoubt;  it  is  the  double  danger  that  kills  me.  If  we 
get  to  shooting,  wild  as  the  country  is  some  one  is  sure  to 
hear  it,  and  then — why  then  it's  the  same  thing,  only 
different,  as  they  say,  caged  by  law,  or  killed  by  car- 
bonari. There's  the  choice.  It  is  a  devilish  bad  thing 
to  have  the  law  against  you  in  this  world,  and  so  I  tell 
the  old  gentleman  up-stairs.  He  is  quite  of  my  way  of 
thinking." 

"Speaking  of  that,"  said  I,  "what  kind  of  person  is 
he." 

"Oh,  he?"  cried  the  other;  "he's  a  rancid  fellow  as  far 
as  he  goes.  I  should  like  to  have  his  neck  wrung  to-mor- 
row by  all  the  devils  in  Italy.  I  am  not  in  this  affair  for 
him.  You  take  me?  I  made  a  bargain  for  Missy's  hand 
and  I  mean  to  have  it  too." 

"That,  by  the  way,"  said  I,  "I  understand.  But  how 
will  Mr.  Huddlestone  take  my  intrusion?" 

"Leave  that  to  Clara,"  returned  Northmour. 

I  could  have  struck  him  in  the  face  for  this  coarse 
familiarity;  but  I  respected  the  truce,  as,  I  am  bound  to 
say,  did  Northmour,  and  so  long  as  the  danger  continued 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  225 

not  a  cloud  arose  in  our  relation.  I  bear  him  this  testi- 
mony with  the  most  unfeigned  satisfaction;  nor  am  I 
without  pride  when  I  look  back  upon  my  own  behavior. 
For  surely  no  two  men  were  ever  left  in  a  position  so 
invidious  and  irritating. 

As  soon  as  I  had  done  eating,  we  proceeded  to  inspect 
the  lower  floor.  Window  by  window  we  tried  the  differ- 
ent supports,  now  and  then  making  an  inconsiderable 
change;  and  the  strokes  of  the  hammer  sounded  with 
startling  loudness  through  the  house.  I  proposed,  I 
remember,  to  make  loopholes;  but  he  told  me  they  were 
already  made  in  the  windows  of  the  upper  story.  It  was 
an  anxious  business  this  inspection,  and  left  me  down- 
hearted. There  were  two  doors  and  five  windows  to  pro- 
tect, and,  counting  Clara,  only  four  of  us  to  defend  them 
against  an  unknown  number  of  foes.  I  communicated  my 
doubts  to  Northmour,  who  assured  me,  with  unmoved 
composure,  that  he  entirely  shared  them. 

"Before  morning,"  said  he,  "we  shall  all  be  butchered 
and  buried  in  Graden  Floe.  For  me,  that  is  written. ' ' 

I  could  not  help  shuddering  at  the  mention  of  the 
quicksand,  but  reminded  Northmour  that  our  enemies 
had  spared  me  in  the  wood. 

"Do  not  flatter  yourself,'*  said  he.  "Then  you  were 
not  in  the  same  boat  with  the  old  gentleman;  now  you  are. 
It's  the  floe  for  all  of  us,  mark  my  words." 

I  trembled  for  Clara;  and  just  then  her  dear  voice  was 
heard  calling  us  to  come  up-stairs.  Northmour  showed 
me  the  way,  and,  when  he  had  reached  the  landing, 
knocked  at  the  door  of  what  used  to  be  called  My  Uncle's 
Bedroom,  as  the  founder  of  the  pavilion  had  designed  it 
especially  for  himself. 

"Come  in,  Northmour;  come  in,  dear  Mr.  Cassilis," 
said  a  voice  from  within. 


226  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

Pushing  open  the  door,  Northmour  admitted  me  before 
him  into  the  apartment.  As  I  came  in  I  could  see  the 
daughter  slipping  out  by  the  side  door  into  the  study, 
which  had  been  prepared  as  her  bedroom.  In  the  bed, 
which  was  drawn  back  against  the  wall,  instead  of  stand- 
ing, as  I  had  last  seen  it,  boldly  across  the  window,  sat 
Bernard  Huddlestone,  the  defaulting  banker.  Little  as  I 
had  seen  of  him  by  the  shifting  light  of  the  lantern  on 
the  links,  I  had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  him  for  the 
same.  He  had  a  long  and  sallow  countenance,  surrounded 
by  a  long  red  beard  and  side-whiskers.  His  broken  nose 
and  high  cheek-bones  gave  him  somewhat  the  air  of  a 
Kalmuck,  and  his  light  eyes  shone  with  the  excitement  of 
a  high  fever.  He  wore  a  skull-cap  of  black  silk;  a  huge 
Bible  lay  open  before  him  on  the  bed,  with  a  pair  of  gold 
spectacles  in  the  place,  and  a  pile  of  other  books  lay  on 
the  stand  by  his  side.  The  green  curtains  lent  a  cadaver- 
ous shade  to  his  cheek;  and,  as  he  sat  propped  on  pillows, 
his  great  stature  was  painfully  hunched,  and  his  head 
protruded  till  it  overhung  his  knees.  I  believe  if  he  had 
not  died  otherwise,  he  must  have  fallen  a  victim  to  con- 
sumption in  the  course  of  but  a  very  few  weeks. 

He  held  out  to  me  a  hand,  long,  thin,  and  disagreeably 
hairy. 

"Come  in,  come  in,  Mr.  Cassilis,"  said  he.  "Another 
protector — ahem! — another  protector.  Always  welcome 
as  a  friend  of  my  daughter's,  Mr.  Cassilis.  How  they 
have  rallied  about  me,  my  daughter's  friends!  May  God 
in  heaven  bless  and  reward  them  for  it!" 

I  gave  him  my  hand,  of  course,  because  I  could  not 
help  it;  but  the  sympathy  I  had  been  prepared  to  feel  for 
Clara's  father  was  immediately  soured  by  his  appearance, 
and  the  wheedling,  unreal  tones  in  which  he  spoke. 

"Cassilis  is  a  good  man, ' '  said  Northmour; '  'worth  ten. ' ' 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  227 

"So  I  hear,"  cried  Mr.  Huddlestone  eagerly;  "so  my 
girl  tells  me.  Ah,  Mr.  Cassilis,  my  sin  has  found  me 
out,  you  see!  I  am  very  low,  very  low;  but  I  hope  equally 
penitent.  We  must  all  come  to  the  throne  of  grace  at 
last,  Mr.  Cassilis.  For  my  part,  I  come  late  indeed;  but 
with  unfeigned  humility,  I  trust." 

"Fiddle-de-dee!"  said  Northmour  roughly. 

"No,  no,  dear  Northmour!"  cried  the  banker.  "You 
must  not  say  that;  you  must  not  try  to  shake  me.  You 
forget,  my  dear,  good  boy,  you  forget  I  may  be  called 
this  very  night  before  my  Maker." 

His  excitement  was  pitiful  to  behold;  and  I  felt  myself 
grow  indignant  with  Northmour,  whose  infidel  opinions  I 
well  knew,  and  heartily  derided,  as  he  continued  to  taunt 
the  poor  sinner  out  of  his  humor  of  repentance. 

"Pooh,  my  dear  Huddlestone!"  said  he.  "You  do 
yourself  injustice.  You  are  a  man  of  the  world  inside  and 
out,  and  were  up  to  all  kinds  of  mischief  before  I  was 
born.  Your  conscience  is  tanned  like  South  American 
leather — only  you  forgot  to  tan  your  liver,  and  that,  if 
you  will  believe  me,  is  the  seat  of  the  annoyance." 

"Rogue,  rogue!  bad  boy!"  said  Mr.  Huddlestone, 
shaking  his  finger.  "I  am  no  precisian,  if  you  come  to 
that;  I  always  hated  a  precisian;  but  I  never  lost  hold  of 
something  better  through  it  all.  I  have  been  a  bad  boy, 
Mr.  Cassilis;  I  do  not  seek  to  deny  that;  but  it  was  after 
my  wife's  death,  and  you  know,  with  a  widower,  it's  a 
different  thing:  Sinful — I  won't  say  no,  but  there  is  a 
gradation,  we  shall  hope.  And  talking  of  that — Hark!" 
he  broke  out  suddenly,  his  hand  raised,  his  fingers  spread, 
his  face  racked  with  interest  and  terror.  "Only  the 
rain,  bless  God!"  he  added,  after  a  pause,  and  with 
indescribable  relief. 

For  some  seconds  he  lay  back  among  the  pillows  like  a 


228  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

man  near  to  fainting;  then  he  gathered  himself  together, 
and,  in  somewhat  tremulous  tones,  began  once  more  to 
thank  me  for  the  share  I  was  prepared  to  take  in  his 
defence. 

"One  question,  sir,"  said  I,  when  he  had  paused.  "Is 
it  true  that  you  have  money  with  you?" 

He  seemed  annoyed  by  the  question,  but  admitted  with 
reluctance  that  he  had  a  little. 

"Well,"  I  continued,  "it  is  their  money  they  are  after, 
is  it  not?  Why  not  give  it  up  to  them?" 

"Ah!"  replied  he,  shaking  his  head,  "I  have  tried  that 
already,  Mr.  Cassilis;  and  alas!  that  it  should  be  so,  but 
it  is  blood  they  want." 

"Huddlestone,  that's  a  little  less  than  fair,"  said 
Northmour.  "You  should  mention  that  what  you  offered 
them  was  upwards  of  two  hundred  thousand  short.  The 
deficit  is  worth  a  reference;  it  is  for  what  they  call  a  cool 
sum,  Frank.  Then,  you  see,  the  fellows  reason  in  their 
clear  Italian  way;  and  it  seems  to  them,  as  indeed  it 
seems  to  me,  that  they  may  just  as  well  have  both  while 
they  are  about  it — money  and  blood  together,  by  George, 
and  no  more  trouble  for  the  extra  pleasure. ' ' 

"Is  it  in  the  pavilion?"  I  asked. 

"It  is;  and  I  wish  it  was  in  the  bottom  of  the  sea  in- 
stead," said  Northmour;  and  then  suddenly — "What  are 
you  making  faces  at  me  for?"  he  cried  to  Mr.  Huddle- 
stone,  on  whom  I  had  unconsciously  turned  my  back.  "Do 
you  think  Cassilis  would  sell  you?" 

Mr.  Huddlestone  protested  that  nothing  had  been  fur- 
ther from  his  mind. 

"It  is  a  good  thing,"  retorted  Northmour  in  his  ugliest 
manner.  "You  might  end  by  wearying  us.  What  were 
you  going  to  say?"  he  added,  turning  to  me. 

"I  was  going  to  propose  an  occupation  for  the  after- 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  229 

noon,"  said  I.  "Let  us  carry  that  money  out,  piece  by 
piece,  and  lay  it  down  before  the  pavilion  door.  If  the 
carbonari  come,  why,  it's  theirs  at  any  rate." 

"No,  no,"  cried  Mr.  Huddlestone;  "it  does  not,  it  can- 
not belong  to  them!  It  should  be  distributed  pro  rata 
among  all  my  creditors." 

"Come,  now,  Huddlestone,"  said  Northmour,  "none  of 
that." 

"Well,  but  my  daughter,"  moaned  the  wretched  man. 

"Your  daughter  will  do  well  enough.  Here  are  two 
suitors,  Cassilis  and  I,  neither  of  us  beggars,  between 
whom  she  has  to  choose.  And  as  for  yourself,  to  make  an 
end  of  arguments,  you  have  no  right  to  a  farthing,  and, 
unless  I'm  much  mistaken,  you  are  going  to  die." 

It  was  certainly  very  cruelly  said ;  but  Mr.  Huddlestone 
was  a  man  who  attracted  little  sympathy;  and,  although 
I  saw  him  wince  and  shudder,  I  mentally  endorsed  the 
rebuke;  nay,  I  added  a  contribution  of  my  own. 

"Northmour  and  I,"  I  said,  "are  willing  enough  to 
help  you  to  save  your  life,  but  not  to  escape  with  stolen 
property." 

He  struggled  for  a  while  with  himself,  as  though  he 
were  on  the  point  of  giving  way  to  anger,  but  prudence 
had  the  best  of  the  controversy. 

"My  dear  boys,"  he  said,  "do  with  me  or  my  money 
what  you  will.  I  leave  all  in  your  hands.  Let  me  com- 
pose myself." 

And  so  we  left  him,  gladly  enough  I  am  sure.  The  last 
that  I  saw,  he  had  once  more  taken  up  his  great  Bible, 
and  with  tremulous  hands  was  adjusting  his  spectacles  to 
read. 


230  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

CHAPTER  VII 

TELLS  HOW   A   WORD  WAS  CRIED  THROUGH   THE   PAVILION 

WINDOW 

The  recollection  of  that  afternoon  will  always  be  graven 
on  my  mind.  Northmour  and  I  were  persuaded  that  an 
attack  was  imminent;  and  if  it  had  been  in  our  power  to 
alter  in  any  way  the  order  of  events,  that  power  would 
have  been  used  to  precipitate  rather  than  delay  the  critical 
moment.  The  worst  was  to  be  anticipated ;  yet  we  could 
conceive  no  extremity  so  miserable  as  the  suspense  we 
were  now  suffering.  I  have  never  been  an  eager,  though 
always  a  great,  reader;  but  I  never  knew  books  so  insipid 
as  those  which  I  took  up  and  cast  aside  that  afternoon  in 
the  pavilion.  Even  talk  became  impossible,  as  the  hours 
went  on.  One  or  other  was  always  listening  for  some 
sound,  or  peering  from  an  up-stairs  window  over  the 
links.  And  yet  not  a  sign  indicated  the  presence  of 
our  foes. 

We  debated  over  and  over  again  my  proposal  with  regard 
to  the  money;  and  had  we  been  in  complete  possession  of 
our  faculties,  I  am  sure  we  should  have  condemned  it  as 
unwise;  but  we  were  flustered  with  alarm,  grasped  at  a 
straw,  and  determined,  although  it  was  as  much  as  ad- 
vertising Mr.  Huddlestone's  presence  in  the  pavilion,  to 
carry  my  proposal  into  effect. 

The  sum  was  part  in  specie,  part  in  bank  paper,  and 
part  in  circular  notes,  payable  to  the  name  of  James 
Gregory.  We  took  it  out,  counted  it,  enclosed  it  once 
more  in  a  despatch-box  belonging  to  Northmour,  and  pre- 
pared a  letter  in  Italian  which  he  tied  to  the  handle.  It 
was  signed  by  both  of  us  under  oath,  and  declared  that 
this  was  all  the  money  which  had  escaped  the  failure  of 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  231 

the  house  of  Huddlestone.  This  was,  perhaps,  the  mad- 
dest action  ever  perpetrated  by  two  persons  professing  to 
be  sane.  Had  the  despatch-box  fallen  into  other  hands 
than  those  for  which  it  was  intended,  we  stood  criminally 
convicted  on  our  own  written  testimony;  but,  as  I  have 
said,  we  were  neither  of  us  in  a  condition  to  judge  so- 
berly, and  had  a  thirst  for  action  that  drove  us  to  do  some- 
thing, right  or  wrong,  rather  than  endure  the  agony  of 
waiting.  Moreover,  as  we  were  both  convinced  that  the 
hollows  of  the  links  were  alive  with  hidden  spies  upon 
our  movements,  we  hoped  that  our  appearance  with  the 
box  might  lead  to  a  parley,  and,  perhaps,  a  compromise. 

It  was  nearly  three  when  we  issued  from  the  pavilion. 
The  rain  had  taken  off;  the  sun  shone  quite  cheerfully.  I 
have  never  seen  the  gulls  fly  so  close  about  the  house  or 
approach  so  fearlessly  to  human  beings.  On  the  very 
doorstep  one  flapped  heavily  past  our  heads,  and  uttered 
its  wild  cry  in  my  very  ear. 

"There  is  an  omen  for  you,"  said  Northmour,  who  like 
all  freethinkers  was  much  under  the  influence  of  supersti- 
tion. "They  think  we  are  already  dead." 

I  made  some  light  rejoinder,  but  it  was  with  half  my 
heart;  for  the  circumstance  had  impressed  me. 

A  yard  or  two  before  the  gate,  on  a  patch  of  smooth 
turf,  we  set  down  the  despatch-box;  and  Northmour  waved 
a  white  handkerchief  over  his  head.  Nothing  replied. 
We  raised  our  voices,  and  cried  aloud  in  Italian  that  we 
were  there  as  ambassadors  to  arrange  the  quarrel ;  but 
the  stillness  remained  unbroken  save  by  the  sea-gulls  and 
the  surf.  I  had  a  weight  at  my  heart  when  we  desisted ; 
and  I  saw  that  even  Northmour  was  unusually  pale.  He 
looked  over  his  shoulder  nervously,  as  though  he  feared 
that  some  one  had  crept  between  him  and  the  pavilion 
door. 


232  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"By  God,"  he  said  in  a  whisper,  "this  is  too  much  for 
me!" 

I  replied  in  the  same  key:  "Suppose  there  should  be 
none,  after  all!" 

"Look  there,"  he  returned,  nodding  with  his  head,  as 
though  he  had  been  afraid  to  point. 

I  glanced  in  the  direction  indicated;  and  there,  from 
the  northern  corner  of  the  Sea- Wood,  beheld  a  thin  column 
of  smoke  rising  steadily  against  the  now  cloudless  sky. 

"Northmour,"  I  said  (we  still  continued  to  talk  in 
whispers),  "it  is  not  possible  to  endure  this  suspense.  I 
prefer  death  fifty  times  over.  Stay  you  here  to  watch  the 
pavilion;  I  will  go  forward  and  make  sure,  if  I  have  to 
walk  right  into  their  camp. ' ' 

He  looked  once  again  all  around  him  with  puckered 
eyes,  and  then  nodded  assentingly  to  my  proposal. 

My  heart  beat  like  a  sledge-hammer  as  I  set  out  walking 
rapidly  in  the  direction  of  the  smoke;  and  though  up  to 
that  moment  I  had  felt  chill  and  shivering,  I  was  suddenly 
conscious  of  a  glow  of  heat  over  all  my  body.  The  ground 
in  this  direction  was  very  uneven;  a  hundred  men  might 
have  lain  hidden  in  as  many  square  yards  about  my  path. 
But  I  had  not  practiced  the  business  in  vain,  chose  such 
routes  as  cut  at  the  very  root  of  concealment,  and,  by 
keeping  along  the  most  convenient  ridges,  commanded 
several  hollows  at  a  time.  It  was  not  long  before  I  was 
rewarded  for  my  caution.  Coming  suddenly  on  to  a  mound 
somewhat  more  elevated  than  the  surrounding  hummocks 
I  saw,  not  thirty  yards  away,  a  man  bent  almost  double, 
and  running  as  fast  as  his  attitude  permitted,  along  the 
bottom  of  a  gully.  I  had  dislodged  one  of  the  spies  from 
his  ambush.  As  soon  as  I  sighted  him,  I  called  loudly  both 
in  English  and  Italian;  and  he,  seeing  concealment  was  no 
longer  possible,  straightened  himself  out,  leaped  from  the 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  233 

gully,  and  made  off  as  straight  as  an  arrow  for  the  borders 
of  the  wood. 

It  was  none  of  my  business  to  pursue;  I  had  learned 
what  I  wanted — that  we  were  beleaguered  and  watched  in 
the  pavilion;  and  I  returned  at  once,  and  walking  as 
nearly  as  possible  in  my  old  footsteps,  to  where  North- 
mour  awaited  me  beside  the  despatch-box.  He  was  even 
paler  than  when  I  had  left  him,  and  his  voice  shook  a 
little. 

"Could  you  see  what  he  was  like?"  he  asked. 

"He  kept  his  back  turned,"  I  replied. 

"Let  us  go  into  the  house,  Frank.  I  don't  think  I'm  a 
coward,  but  I  can  stand  no  more  of  this,"  he  whispered. 

All  was  still  and  sunshiny  about  the  pavilion  as  we 
turned  to  re-enter  it;  even  the  gulls  had  flown  in  a  wider 
circuit,  and  were  seen  flickering  along  the  beach  and 
sand-hills;  and  this  loneliness  terrified  me  more  than  a 
regiment  under  arms.  It  was  not  until  the  door  was 
barricaded  that  I  could  draw  a  full  inspiration  and  relieve 
the  weight  that  lay  upon  my  bosom.  Northmour  and  I 
exchanged  a  steady  glance;  and  I  suppose  each  made  his 
own  reflections  on  the  white  and  startled  aspect  of  the 
other. 

"You were  right,"  I  said.  "All  is  over.  Shake  hands, 
old  man,  for  the  last  time." 

"Yes,"  replied  he,  "I  will  shake  hands;  for,  as  sure  as 
I  am  here,  I  bear  no  malice.  But,  remember,  if,  by  some 
impossible  accident,  we  should  give  the  slip  to  these 
blackguards,  I'll  take  the  upper  hand  of  you  by  fair  or 
foul." 

"Oh,"  said  I,  "you  weary  me." 

He  seemed  hurt,  and  walked  away  in  silence  to  the  foot 
of  the  stairs,  where  he  paused. 

"You  do  not  understand  me,"  said  he,  "I  am  not  a 


234  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

swindler,  and  I  guard  myself;  that  is  all.  It  may  weary 
you  or  not,  Mr.  Cassilis,  I  do  not  care  a  rush;  I  speak  for 
my  own  satisfaction,  and  not  for  your  amusement.  You 
had  better  go  up-stairs  and  court  the  girl,  for  my  part,  I 
stay  here. ' ' 

"And  I  stay  with  you,"  I  returned.  "Do  you  think  I 
would  steal  a  march,  even  with  your  permission?" 

"Frank,"  he  said,  smiling,  "it's  a  pity  you  are  an  ass, 
for  you  have  the  makings  of  a  man.  I  think  I  must  be 
fey  to-day;  you  cannot  irritate  me,  even  when  you  try. 
Do  you  know,"  he  continued  softly,  "I  think  we  are  the 
two  most  miserable  men  in  England,  you  and  I?  we  have 
got  on  to  thirty  without  wife  or  child,  or  so  much  as  a 
shop  to  look  after — poor,  pitiful,  lost  devils,  both!  And 
now  we  clash  about  a  girl!  As  if  there  were  not  several 
millions  in  the  United  Kingdom!  Ah,  Frank,  Frank,  the 
one  who  loses  his  throw,  be  it  you  or  me,  he  has  my  pity! 
It  were  better  for  him — how  does  the  Bible  say? — that  a 
millstone  were  hanged  about  his  neck  and  he  were  cast 
into  the  depth  of  the  sea.  Let  us  take  a  drink,"  he  con- 
cluded suddenly,  but  without  any  levity  of  tone. 

I  was  touched  by  his  words,  and  consented.  He  sat 
down  on  the  table  in  the  dining-room,  and  held  up  the 
glass  of  sherry  to  his  eye. 

"If  you  beat  me,  Frank,"  he  said,  "I  shall  take  to 
drink.  What  will  you  do,  if  it  goes  the  other  way?" 

"God  knows,"  I  returned. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "here  is  a  toast  in  the  meantime: 
'Italia  irredenta!'" 

The  remainder  of  the  day  was  passed  in  the  same  dread- 
ful tedium  and  suspense.  I  laid  the  table  for  dinner, 
while  Northmour  and  Clara  prepared  the  meal  together 
in  the  kitchen.  I  could  hear  their  talk  as  I  went  to  and 
fro,  and  was  surprised  to  find  it  ran  all  the  time  upon 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  235 

myself.  Northmour  again  bracketed  us  together,  and 
rallied  Clara  on  a  choice  of  husbands;  but  he  continued  to 
speak  of  me  with  some  feeling,  and  uttered  nothing  to  my 
prejudice  unless  he  included  himself  in  the  condemnation. 
This  awakened  a  sense  of  gratitude  in  my  heart,  which 
combined  with  the  immediateness  of  our  peril  to  fill  my 
eyes  with  tears.  After  all,  I  thought — and  perhaps  the 
thought  was  laughably  vain — we  were  here,  three  very 
noble  human  beings,  to  perish  in  defense  of  a  thieving 
banker. 

Before  we  sat  down  to  table,  I  looked  forth  from  an 
up-stairs  window.  The  day  was  beginning  to  decline;  the 
links  were  utterly  deserted;  the  despatch-box  still  lay 
untouched  where  we  had  left  it  hours  before. 

Mr.  Huddlestone,  in  a  long  yellow  dressing-gown,  took 
one  end  of  the  table,  Clara  the  other;  while  Northmour 
and  I  faced  each  other  from  the  sides.  The  lamp  was 
brightly  trimmed ;  the  wine  was  good ;  the  viands,  although 
mostly  cold,  excellent  of  their  sort.  We  seemed  to  have 
agreed  tacitly;  all  reference  to  the  impending  catastrophe 
was  carefully  avoided;  and,  considering  our  tragic  cir- 
cumstances, we  made  a  merrier  party  than  could  have 
been  expected.  From  time  to  time,  it  is  true,  Northmour 
or  I  would  rise  from  the  table  and  make  a  round  of  the 
defences;  and,  on  each  of  these  occasions  Mr.  Huddlestone 
was  recalled  to  a  sense  of  his  tragic  predicament,  glanced 
up  with  ghastly  eyes,  and  bore  for  an  instant  on  his  coun- 
tenance the  stamp  of  terror.  But  he  hastened  to  empty 
his  glass,  wiped  his  forehead  with  his  handkerchief,  and 
joined  again  in  the  conversation. 

I  was  astonished  at  the  wit  and  information  he  dis- 
played. Mr.  Huddlestone's  was  certainly  no  ordinary 
character;  he  had  read  and  observed  for  himself;  his  gifts 
were  sound;  and,  though  I  could  never  have  learned  to 


236  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

love  the  man,  I  began  to  understand  his  success  in  busi- 
ness, and  the  great  respect  in  which  he  had  been  held 
before  his  failure.  He  had,  above  all,  the  talent  of  so- 
ciety; and  though  I  never  heard  him  speak  but  on  this 
one  and  most  unfavorable  occasion,  I  set  him  down  among 
the  most  brilliant  conversationalists  I  ever  met. 

He  was  relating  with  great  gusto,  and  seemingly  no 
feeling  of  shame,  the  manoeuvres  of  a  scoundrelly  com- 
mission merchant  whom  he  had  known  and  studied  in  his 
youth,  and  we  were  all  listening  with  an  odd  mixture  of 
mirth  and  embarrassment,  when  our  little  party  was 
brought  abruptly  to  an  end  in  the  most  startling  manner. 

A  noise  like  that  of  a  wet  finger  on  the  window-pane 
interrupted  Mr.  Huddlestone's  tale;  and  in  an  instant  we 
were  all  four  as  white  as  paper,  and  sat  tongue-tied  and 
motionless  round  the  table. 

"A  snail,"  I  said  at  last;  for  I  had  heard  that  these 
animals  make  a  noise  somewhat  similar  in  character. 

"Snail  be  d d!"  said  Northmour.     "Hush!" 

The  same  sound  was  repeated  twice  at  regular  inter- 
vals; and  then  a  formidable  voice  shouted  through  the 
shutters  the  Italian  word  "  Traditore!" 

Mr.  Huddlestone  threw  his  head  in  the  air;  his  eyelids 
quivered;  next  moment  he  fell  insensible  below  the  table. 
Northmour  and  I  had  each  run  to  the  armory  and  seized 
a  gun.  Clara  was  on  her  feet  with  her  hand  at  her  throat. 

So  we  stood  waiting,  for  we  thought  the  hour  of  attack 
was  certainly  come;  but  second  passed  after  second,  and 
all  but  the  surf  remained  silent  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  pavilion. 

"Quick,"  said  Northmour;  "up-stairs  with  him  before 
they  coma." 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  237 

CHAPTER  VIII 
TELLS  THE  LAST  OF  THE  TALL  MAN 

Somehow  or  other,  by  hook  and  crook,  and  between  the 
three  of  us,  we  got  Bernard  Huddlestone  bundled  up-stairs 
and  laid  upon  the  bed  in  My  Uncle's  Room.  During  the 
whole  process,  which  was  rough  enough,  he  gave  no  sign 
of  consciousness,  and  he  remained,  as  we  had  thrown  him, 
without  changing  the  position  of  a  finger.  His  daughter 
opened  his  shirt  and  began  to  wet  his  head  and  bosom; 
while  Northmour  and  I  ran  to  the  window.  The  weather 
continued  clear;  the  moon,  which  was  now  about  full,  had 
risen  and  shed  a  very  clear  light  upon  the  links;  yet,  strain 
our  eyes  as  we  might,  we  could  distinguish  nothing  mov- 
ing. A  few  dark  spots,  more  or  less,  on  the  uneven  ex- 
panse were  not  to  be  identified ;  they  might  be  crouching 
men,  they  might  be  shadows;  it  was  impossible  to  be  sure. 

"Thank  God,"  said  Northmour,  "Aggie  is  not  coming 
to-night." 

Aggie  was  the  name  of  the  old  nurse ;  he  had  notjthought 
of  her  till  now;  but  that  he  should  think  of  her  at  all,  was 
a  trait  that  surprised  me  in  the  man. 

We  were  again  reduced  to  waiting.  Northmour  went 
to  the  fireplace  and  spread  his  hands  before  the  red  em- 
bers, as  if  he  were  cold.  I  followed  him  mechanically 
with  my  eyes,  and  in  so  doing  turned  my  back  upon  the 
window.  At  that  moment  a  very  faint  report  was  audible 
from  without,  and  a  ball  shivered  a  pane  of  glass,  and 
buried  itself  in  the  shutter  two  inches  from  my  head.  I 
heard  Clara  scream ;  and  though  I  whipped  instantly  out 
of  range  and  into  a  corner,  she  was  there,  so  to  speak, 
before  me,  beseeching  to  know  if  I  were  hurt.  I  felt  that 
I  could  stand  to  be  shot  at  every  day  and  all  day  long,  with 


238  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

such  marks  of  solicitude  for  a  reward;  and  I  continued  to 
reassure  her,  with  the  tenderest  caresses  and  in  complete 
forgetfulness  of  our  situation,  till  the  voice  of  Northmour 
recalled  me  to  myself. 

'  'An  air-gun, ' '  he  said.  '  'They  wish  to  make  no  noise. ' ' 

I  put  Clara  aside,  and  looked  at  him.  He  was  standing 
with  his  back  to  the  fire  and  his  hands  clasped  behind  him; 
and  I  knew  by  the  black  look  on  his  face,  that  passion  was 
boiling  within.  I  had  seen  just  such  a  look  before  he 
attacked  me,  that  March  night,  in  the  ad  joining  chamber; 
and,  though  I  could  make  every  allowance  for  his  anger,  I 
confess  I  trembled  for  the  consequences.  He  gazed  straight 
before  him;  but  he  could  see  us  with  the  tail  of  his  eye, 
and  his  temper  kept  rising  like  a  gale  of  wind.  With 
regular  battle  awaiting  us  outside,  this  prospect  of  an 
internecine  strife  within  the  walls  began  to  daunt  me. 

Suddenly,  as  I  was  thus  closely  watching  his  expression 
and  prepared  against  the  worst,  I  saw  a  change,  a  flash,  a 
look  of  relief,  upon  his  face.  He  took  up  the  lamp  which 
stood  beside  him  on  the  table,  and  turned  to  us  with  an 
air  of  some  excitement. 

"There  is  one  point  that  we  must  know,"  said  he. 
"Are  they  going  to  butcher  the  lot  of  us,  or  only  Huddle- 
stone?  Did  they  take  you  for  him,  or  fire  at  you  for  your 
own  beaux  yeaux  ?  " 

"They  took  me  for  him,  for  certain,"  I  replied.  "I 
am  near  as  tall,  and  my  head  is  fair." 

"I  am  going  to  make  sure,"  returned  Northmour;  and 
he  stepped  up  to  the  window,  holding  the  lamp  above  his 
head,  and  stood  there,  quietly  affronting  death,  for  half  a 
minute. 

Clara  sought  to  rush  forward  and  pull  him  from  the 
place  of  danger;  but  I  had  the  pardonable  selfishness  to 
hold  her  back  by  force. 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  239 

"Yes,'*  said  Northmour,  turning  coolly  from  the  win- 
dow; "it's  only  Huddlestone  they  want." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Northmour !"  cried  Clara;  but  found  no  more 
to  add;  the  temerity  she  had  just  witnessed  seeming 
beyond  the  reach  of  words. 

He,  on  his  part,  looked  at  me,  cocking  his  head,  with  a 
fire  of  triumph  in  his  eyes;  and  I  understood  at  once  that 
he  had  thus  hazarded  his  life,  merely  to  attract  Clara's 
notice,  and  depose  me  from  my  position  as  the  hero  of 
the  hour.  He  snapped  his  fingers. 

"The  fire  is  only  beginning,"  he  said.  "When  they 
warm  up  to  their  work,  they  won't  be  so  particular." 

A  voice  was  now  heard  hailing  us  from  the  entrance. 
From  the  window  we  could  see  the  figure  of  a  man  in  the 
moonlight;  he  stood  motionless,  his  face  uplifted  to  ours, 
and  a  rag  of  something  white  on  his  extended  arm;  and 
as  we  looked  right  down  upon  him,  though  he  was  a  good 
many  yards  distant  on  the  links,  we  could  see  the  moon- 
light glitter  on  his  eyes. 

He  opened  his  lips  again,  and  spoke  for  some  minutes 
on  end,  in  a  key  so  loud  that  he  might  have  been  heard 
in  every  corner  of  the  pavilion,  and  as  far  away  as  the 
borders  of  the  wood.  It  was  the  same  voice  that  had 
already  shouted  "Traditore!"  through  the  shutters  of  the 
dining-room;  this  time  it  made  a  complete  and  clear 
statement.  If  the  traitor  "Oddlestone"  were  given  up, 
all  others  should  be  spared;  if  not,  no  one  should  escape 
to  tell  the  tale. 

"Well,  Huddlestone,  what  do  you  say  to  that?"  asked 
Northmour,  turning  to  the  bed. 

Up  to  that  moment  the  banker  had  given  no  sign  of 
life,  and  I,  at  least,  had  supposed  him  to  be  still  lying  in 
a  faint;  but  he  replied  at  once,  and  in  such  tones  as  I 
have  never  heard  elsewhere,  save  from  a  delirious  patient, 


240  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

adjured  and  besought  us  not  to  desert  him.  It  was  the 
most  hideous  and  abject  performance  that  my  imagination 
can  conceive. 

"Enough,"  cried  Northmour;  and  then  he  threw  open 
the  window,  leaned  out  into  the  night,  and  in  a  tone  of 
exultation,  and  with  a  total  forgetfulness  of  what  was  due 
to  the  presence  of  a  lady,  poured  out  upon  the  ambassador 
a  string  of  the  most  abominable  raillery  both  in  English 
and  Italian,  and  bade  him  be  gone  where  he  had  come 
from.  I  believe  that  nothing  so  delighted  Northmour  at 
that  moment  as  the  thought  that  we  must  all  infallibly 
perish  before  the  night  was  out. 

Meantime  the  Italian  put  his  flag  of  truce  into  his 
pocket,  and  disappeared,  at  a  leisurely  pace,  among  the 
sand-hills. 

"They  make  honorable  war,"  said  Northmour.  "They 
are  all  gentlemen  and  soldiers.  For  the  credit  of  the 
thing,  I  wish  we  could  change  sides — you  and  I,  Frank, 
and  you  too,  Missy  my  darling — and  leave  that  being  on 
the  bed  to  some  one  else.  Tut!  Don't  look  shocked!  We 
are  all  going  post  to  what  they  call  eternity,  and  may  as 
well  be  above-board  while  there's  time.  As  far  as  I'm 
concerned,  if  I  could  first  strangle  Huddlestone  and  then 
get  Clara  in  my  arms,  I  could  die  with  some  pride  and 
satisfaction.  And  as  it  is,  by  God,  I'll  have  a  kiss!" 

Before  I  could  do  anything  to  interfere,  he  had  rudely 
embraced  and  repeatedly  kissed  the  resisting  girl.  Next 
moment  I  had  pulled  him  away  with  fury,  and  flung  him 
heavily  against  the  wall.  He  laughed  loud  and  long,  and 
I  feared  his  wits  had  given  way  under  the  strain;  for  even 
in  the  best  of  days  he  had  been  a  sparing  and  a  quiet 
laugher. 

"Now,  Frank,"  said  he  when  his  mirth  was  somewhat 
appeased,  "it's  your  turn.  Here's  my  hand.  Good-bye; 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  241 

farewell!"  Then,  seeing  me  stand  rigid  and  indignant, 
and  holding  Clara  to  my  side — "Man!"  he  broke  out, 
"are  you  angry?  Did  you  think  we  were  going  to  die 
with  all  the  airs  and  graces  of  society?  I  took  a  kiss;  I'm 
glad  I  had  it;  and  now  you  can  take  another  if  you  like, 
and  square  accounts." 

I  turned  from  him  with  a  feeling  of  contempt  which  I 
did  not  seek  to  dissemble. 

"As  you  please,"  said  he.  "You've  been  a  prig  in 
life;  a  prig  you'll  die." 

And  with  that  he  sat  down  in  a  chair,  a  rifle  over  the 
knee,  and  amused  himself  with  snapping  the  lock;  but  I 
could  see  that  his  ebullition  of  light  spirits  (the  only  one 
I  ever  knew  him  to  display)  had  already  come  to  an  end, 
and  was  succeeded  by  a  sullen,  scowling  humor. 

All  this  time  our  assailants  might  have  been  entering 
the  house,  and  we  been  none  the  wiser;  we  had  in  truth 
almost  forgotten  the  danger  that  so  imminently  overhung 
our  days.  But  just  then  Mr.  Huddlestone  uttered  a  cry, 
and  leaped  from  the  bed. 

I  asked  him  what  was  wrong. 

"Fire!"  he  cried.    "They  have  set  the  house  on  fire!" 

Northmour  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant,  and  he  and  I 
ran  through  the  door  of  communication  with  the  study. 
The  room  was  illuminated  by  a  red  and  angry  light. 
Almost  at  the  moment  of  our  entrance,  a  tower  of  flame 
arose  in  front  of  the  window,  and,  with  a  tingling  report, 
a  pane  fell  inwards  on  the  carpet.  They  had  set  fire  to 
the  lean-to  outhouse,  where  Northmour  used  to  nurse 
his  negatives. 

"Hot  work,"  said  Northmour.  "Let  us  try  in  your 
old  room." 

We  ran  thither  in  a  breath,  threw  up  the  casement,  and 
looked  forth.  Along  the  whole  back  wall  of  the  pavilion 


242  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

piles  of  fuel  had  been  arranged  and  kindled;  and  it  is 
probable  they  had  been  drenched  with  mineral  oil/for,  in 
spite  of  the  morning's  rain,  they  all  burned  bravely.  The 
fire  had  taken  a  firm  hold  already  on  the  outhouse,  which 
blazed  higher  and  higher  every  moment;  the  back  door 
was  in  the  centre  of  a  red-hot  bonfire;  the  eaves  we  could 
see,  as  we  looked  upward,  were  already  smouldering,  for 
the  roof  overhung,  and  was  'supported  by  considerable 
beams  of  wood.  At  the  same  time,  hot,  pungent,  and 
choking  volumes  of  smoke  began  to  fill  the  house.  There 
was  not  a  human  being  to  be  seen  to  right  or  left. 

"Ah,  well!"  said  Northmour,  "here's  the  end,  thank 
God." 

And  we  returned  to  My  Uncle's  Room.  Mr.  Huddle- 
stone  was  putting  on  his  boots,  still  violently  trembling, 
but  with  an  air  of  determination'such  as  I  had  not  hitherto 
observed.  Clara  stood  close  by  him,  with  her  cloak  in 
both  hands  ready  to  throw  about  her  shoulders,  and'  a 
strange  look  in  her  eyes,  as  if  she  were  half  hopeful,  half 
doubtful  of  her  father. 

"Well,  boys  and  girls,"  said  Northmour,  "how  about 
a  sally?  The  oven  is  heating;  it  is  not  good  to  stay  here 
and  be  baked ;  and,  for  my  part,  I  want  to  come  to  my 
hands  with  them,  and  be  done. ' ' 

"There  is  nothing  else  left,"  I  replied. 

And  both  Clara  and  Mr.  Huddlestone,  though  with  a 
very  different  intonation,  added,  "Nothing." 

As  we  went  down-stairs  the  heat  was  excessive,  and  the 
roaring  of  the  fire  filled  our  ears;  and  we  had  scarce 
reached  the  passage  before  the  stairs  window  fell  in,  a 
branch  of  flame  shot  brandishing  through  the  aperture, 
and  the  interior  of  the  pavilion  became  lit  up  with  that 
dreadful  and  fluctuating  glare.  At  the  same  moment  we 
heard  the  fall  of  something  heavy  and  inelastic  in  the 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  243 

upper  story.  The  whole  pavilion,  it  was  plain,  had  gone 
alight  like  a  box  of  matches,  and  now  not  only  flamed 
sky-high  to  land  and  sea,  but  threatened  with  every 
moment  to  crumble  and  fall  in  about  our  ears. 

Northmour  and  I  cocked  our  revolvers.  Mr.  Huddle- 
stone,  who  had  already  refused  a  firearm,  put  us  behind 
him  with  a  manner  of  command. 

"Let  Clara  open  the  door,"  said  he.  "So,  if  they  fire 
a  volley,  she  will  be  protected.  And  in  the  meantime 
stand  behind  me.  I  am  the  scapegoat;  my  sins  have  found 
me  out." 

I  heard  him,  as  I  stood  breathless  by  his  shoulder,  with 
my  pistol  ready,  pattering  off  prayers  in  a  tremulous, 
rapid  whisper;  and  I  confess,  horrid  as  the  thought  may 
seem,  I  despised  him  for  thinking  of  supplications  in  a 
moment  so  critical  and  thrilling.  In  the  meantime,  Clara, 
who  was  dead  white  but  still  possessed  her  faculties,  had 
displaced  the  barricade  from  the  front  door.  Another 
moment,  and  she  had  pulled  it  open.  Firelight  and  moon- 
light illuminated  the  links  with  confused  and  changeful 
lustre,  and  far  away  against  the  sky  we  could  see  a  long 
trail  of  glowing  smoke. 

Mr.  Huddlestone,  filled  for  the  moment  with  a  strength 
greater  than  his  own,  struck  Northmour  and  myself  a 
back-hander  in  the  chest;  and  while  we  were  thus  for  the 
moment  incapacitated  from  action,  lifting  his  arms  above 
his  head  like  one  about  to  dive,  he  ran  straight  forward 
out  of  the  pavilion. 

"Here  am  I!"  he  cried— "Huddlestone!  Kill  me,  and 
spare  the  others!" 

His  sudden  appearance  daunted,  I  suppose,  our  hidden 
enemies;  for  Northmour  and  I  had  time  to  recover,  to 
seize  Clara  between  us,  one  by  each  arm,  and  to  rush  forth 
to  his  assistance,  ere  anything  further  had  taken  place. 


244  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

But  scarce  had  we  passed  the  threshold  when  there  came 
near  a  dozen  reports  and  flashes  from  every  direction 
among  the  hollows  of  the  links.  Mr.  Huddlestone  stag- 
gered, uttered  a  weird  and  freezing  cry,  threw  up  his 
arms  over  his  head,  and  fell  backward  on  the  turf. 

"Traditore!    Traditore!"  cried  the  invisible  avengers. 

And  just  then,  a  part  of  the  roof  of  the  pavilion  fell 
in,  so  rapid  was  the  progress  of  the  fire.  A  loud,  vague, 
and  horrible  noise  accompanied  the  collapse,  and  a  vast 
volume  of  flame  went  soaring  up  to  heaven.  It  must  have 
been  visible  at  that  moment  from  twenty  miles  out  at 
sea,  from  the  shore  at  Graden  Wester,  and  far  inland 
from  the  peak  of  Graystiel,  the  most  eastern  summit  of 
the  Caulder  Hills.  Bernard  [Huddlestone,  although  God 
knows  what  were  his  obsequies,  had  a  fine  pyre  at  the 
moment  of  his  death. 


CHAPTER  IX 

TELLS  HOW  NORTHMOUR  CARRIED  OUT  HIS  THREAT 

I  should  have  the  greatest  difficulty  to  tell  you  what 
followed  next  after  this  tragic  circumstance.  It  is  all  to 
me,  as  I  look  back  upon  it,  mixed,  strenuous,  and  ineffec- 
tual, like  the  struggles  of  a  sleeper  in  a  nightmare. 
Clara,  I  remember,  uttered  a  broken  sigh  and  would  have 
fallen  forward  to  earth,  had  not  Northmour  and  I  sup- 
ported her  insensible  body.  I  do  not  think  we  were 
attacked ;  I  do  not  remember  even  to  have  seen  an  assail- 
ant; and  I  believe  we  deserted  Mr.  Huddlestone  without 
a  glance.  I  only  remember  running  like  a  man  in  a 
panic,  now  carrying  Clara  altogether  in  my  own  arms, 
now  sharing  her  weight  with  Northmour,  now  scuffling 
confusedly  for  the  possession  of  that  dear  burden.  Why 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  245 

we  should  have  made  for  my  camp  in  the  Hemlock  Den, 
or  how  we  reached  it,  are  points  lost  forever  to  my  recol- 
lection. The  first  moment  at  which  I  became  definitely 
sure,  Clara  had  been  suffered  to  fall  against  the  outside 
of  my  little  tent,  Northmour  and  I  were  tumbling  to- 
gether on  the  ground,  and  he,  with  contained  ferocity, 
was  striking  for  my  head  with  the  butt  of  his  revolver. 
He  had  already  twice  wounded  me  on  the  scalp;  and  it  is 
to  the  consequent  loss  of  blood  that  I  am  tempted  to 
attribute  the  sudden  clearness  of  my  mind. 

I  caught  him  by  the  wrist. 

"Northmour,"  I  remember  saying,  "you  can  kill  me 
afterwards.  Let  us  first  attend  to  Clara. " 

He  was  at  that  moment  uppermost.  Scarcely  had  the 
words  passed  my  lips,  when  he  had  leaped  to  his  feet  and 
ran  towards  the  tent;  and  the  next  moment,  he  was  strain- 
ing Clara  to  his  heart  and  covering  her  unconscious  hands 
and  face  with  his  caresses. 

"Shame!"  I  cried.    "Shame  to  you,  Northmour!" 

And,  giddy  though  I  still  was,  I  struck  him  repeatedly 
upon  the  head  and  shoulders. 

He  relinquished  his  grasp,  and  faced  me  in  the  broken 
moonlight. 

"I  had  you  under,  and  let  you  go,"  said  he;  "and  now 
you  strike  me!  Coward!" 

"You  are  the  coward,"  I  retorted.  "Did  she  wish 
your  kisses  while  she  was  still  sensible  of  what  she  wanted? 
Not  she!  And  now  she  may  be  dying;  and  you  waste  this 
precious  time,  and  abuse  her  helplessness.  Stand  aside, 
and  let  me  help  her." 

He  confronted  me  for  a  moment,  white  and  menacing; 
then  suddenly  he  stepped  aside. 

"Help  her  then,"  said  he. 

I  threw  myself  on  my  knees  beside  her,  and  loosened, 


246  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

as  well  as  I  was  able,  her  dress  and  corset;  but  while  I 
was  thus  engaged,  a  grasp  descended  on  my  shoulder. 

"Keep  your  hands  off  her,"  said  Northmour  fiercely. 
"Do  you  think  I  have  no  blood  in  my  veins?" 

"Northmour,"  I  cried,  "if  you  will  neither  help  her 
yourself,  nor  let  me  do  so,  do  you  know  that  I  shall  have 
to  kill  you?" 

"That  is  better!"  he  cried.  "Let  her  die  also,  where's 
the  harm?  Step  aside  from  that  girl !  and  stand  up  to 
fight." 

"You  will  observe,"  said  I,  half-rising,  "that  I  have 
not  kissed  her  yet." 

"I  dare  you  to,"  he  cried. 

I  do  not  know  what  possessed  me;  it  was  one  of  the 
things  I  am  most  ashamed  of  in  my  life,  though,  as  my 
wife  used  to  say,  I  knew  that  my  kisses  would  be  always 
welcome  were  she  dead  or  living;  down  I  fell  again  upon 
my  knees,  parted  the  hair  from  her  forehead,  and,  with 
the  dearest  respect,  laid  my  lips  for  a  moment  on  that 
cold  brow.  It  was  such  a  caress  as  a  father  might  have 
given;  it  was  such  a  one  as  was  not  unbecoming  from  a 
man  soon  to  die  to  a  woman  already  dead. 

"And  now,"  said  I,  "I  am  at  your  service,  Mr.  North- 
mour. ' ' 

But  I  saw,  to  my  surprise,  that  he  had  turned  his  back 
upon  me. 

"Do  you  hear?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "I  do.  If  you  wish  to  fight,  I  am 
ready.  If  not,  go  on  and  save  Clara.  All  is  one  to 
me." 

I  did  not  wait  to  be  twice  bidden;  but,  stooping  again 
over  Clara,  continued  my  efforts  to  revive  her.  She  still 
lay  white  and  lifeless;  I  began  to  fear  that  her  sweet 
spirit  had  indeed  fled  beyond  recall,  and  horror  and  a 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  247 

sense  of  utter  desolation  seized  upon  my  heart.  I  called 
her  by  name  with  the  most  endearing  inflections;  I  chafed 
and  beat  her  hands;  now  I  laid  her  head  low,  now  sup- 
ported it  against  my  knee;  but  all  seemed  to  be  in  vain, 
and  the  lids  still  lay  heavy  on  her  eyes. 

"Northmour,"  I  said,  "there  is  my  hat.  For  God's 
sake  bring  some  water  from  the  spring." 

Almost  in  a  moment  he  was  by  my  side  with  the  water. 

"I  have  brought  it  in  my  own,"  he  said.  "You  do  not 
grudge  me  the  privilege?" 

"Northmour,"  I  was  beginning  to  say,  as  I  laved  her 
head  and  breast;  but  he  interrupted  me  savagely. 

"Oh,  you  hush  up!"  he  said.  "The  best  thing  you  can 
do  is  to  say  nothing." 

I  had  certainly  no  desire  to  talk,  my  mind  being  swal- 
lowed up  in  concern  for  my  dear  love  and  her  condition; 
so  I  continued  in  silence  to  do  my  best  towards  her 
recovery,  and,  when  the  hat  was  empty,  returned  it  to 
him,  with  one  word — "More."  He  had,  perhaps,  gone 
several  times  upon  this  errand,  when  Clara  reopened  her 
eyes. 

"Now,"  said  he,  "since  she  is  better,  you  can  spare  me, 
can  you  not?  I  wish  you  a  good  night,  Mr.  Cassilis. " 

And  with  that  he  was  gone  among  the  thicket.  I  made 
a  fire,  for  I  had  now  no  fear  of  the  Italians,  who  had 
even  spared  all  the  little  possessions  left  in  my  encamp- 
ment; and,  broken  as  she  was  by  the  excitement  and  the 
hideous  catastrophe  of  the  evening,  I  managed,  in  one 
way  or  another — by  persuasion,  encouragement,  warmth, 
and  such  simple  remedies  as  I  could  lay  my  hand  on — to 
bring  her  back  to  some  composure  of  mind  and  strength 
of  body. 

Day  had  already  come,  when  a  sharp  "Hist!"  sounded 
from  the  thicket.  I  started  from  the  ground;  but  the 


248  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

voice  of  Northmour  was  heard  adding,  in  the  most  tran- 
quil tones:  "Come  here,  Cassilis,  and  alone;  I  want  to 
show  you  something." 

I  consulted  Clara  with  my  eyes,  and,  receiving  her  tacit 
permission,  left  her  alone,  and  clambered  out  of  the  den. 
At  some  distance  off  I  saw  Northmour  leaning  against  an 
elder;  and,  as  soon  as  he  perceived  me,  he  began  walking 
seaward.  I  had  almost  overtaken  him  as  he  reached  the 
outskirts  of  the  wood. 

'  'Look, ' '  said  he,  pausing. 

A  couple  of  steps  more  brought  me  out  of  the  foliage. 
The  light  of  the  morning  lay  cold  and  clear  over  that 
well-known  scene.  The  pavilion  was  but  a  blackened 
wreck;  the  roof  had  fallen  in,  one  of  the  gables  had  fallen 
out;  and,  far  and  near,  the  face  of  the  links  was  cica- 
trized with  little  patches  of  burnt  furze.  Thick  smoke 
still  went  straight  upwards  in  the  windless  air  of  the 
morning,  and  a  great  pile  of  ardent  cinders  filled  the  bare 
walls  of  the  house,  like  coals  in  an  open  grate.  Close  by 
the  islet  a  schooner  yacht  lay  to,  and  a  well-manned  boat 
was  pulling  vigorously  for  the  shore. 

"The  Red  Earl!"  I  cried.  "The  Red  Earl  twelve 
hours  too  late!" 

"Feel  in  your  pocket,  Frank.  Are  you  armed?"  asked 
Northmour. 

I  obeyed  him,  and  I  think  I  must  have  become  deadly 
pale.  My  revolver  had  been  taken  from  me. 

"You  see  I  have  you  in  my  power,"  he  continued.  "I 
disarmed  you  last  night  while  you  were  nursing  Clara; 
but  this  morning — here — take  your  pistol.  No  thanks!" 
he  cried,  holding  up  his  hand.  "I  do  not  like  them;  that 
is  the  only  way  you  can  annoy  me  now." 

He  began  to  walk  forward  across  the  links  to  meet  the 
boat,  and  I  followed  a  step  or  two  behind.  In  front  of 


THE  PAVILION  ON  THE  LINKS  249 

the  pavilion  I  paused  to  see  where  Mr.  Huddlestone  had 
fallen;  but  there  was  no  sign  of  him,  nor  so  much  as  a 
trace  of  blood. 

"Graden  Floe,"  said  Northmour. 

He  continued  to  advance  till  we  had  come  to  the  head 
of  the  beach. 

"No  farther,  please,"  said  he.  "Would  you  like  to 
take  her  to  Graden  House?" 

"Thank  you,"  replied  I;  "I  shall  try  to  get  her  to  the 
minister's  at  Graden  Wester." 

The  prow  of  the  boat  here  grated  on  the  beach,  and  a 
sailor  jumped  ashore  with  a  line  in  his  hand. 

"Wait  a  minute,  lads!"  cried  Northmour;  and  then 
lower  and  to  my  private  ear:  "You  had  better  say  nothing 
of  all  this  to  her,"  he  added. 

"On  the  contrary!"  I  broke  out,  "she  shall  know 
everything  that  I  can  tell." 

"You  do  not  understand,"  he  returned,  with  an  air  of 
great  dignity.  "It  will  be  nothing  to  her;  she  expects  it 
of  me.  Good-bye!"  he  added,  with  a  nod. 

I  offered  him  my  hand. 

"Excuse  me,"  said  he.  "It's  small,  I  know;  but  I 
can't  push  things  quite  so  far  as  that.  I  don't  wish 
any  sentimental  business,  to  sit  by  your  hearth  a  white- 
haired  wanderer,  and  all  that.  Quite  the  contrary:  I 
hope  to  God  I  shall  never  again  clap  eyes  on  either  one 
of  you." 

"Well,  God  bless  you,  Northmour!"  I  said  heartily. 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  returned. 

He  walked  down  the  beach ;  and  the  man  who  was  ashore 
gave  him  an  arm  onboard,  and  then  shoved  off  and  leaped 
into  the  bows  himself.  Northmour  took  the  tiller;  the 
boat  rose  to  the  waves,  and  the  oars  between  the  thole- 
pins sounded  crisp  and  measured  in  the  air. 


250  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

They  were  not  yet  half  way  to  the  Red  Earl,  and  I  was 
still  watching  their  progress,  when  the  sun  rose  out  of 
the  sea. 

One  word  more,  and  my  story  is  done.  Years  after, 
Northmour  was  killed  fighting  under  the  colors  of  Gari- 
baldi for  the  liberation  of  Tyrol. 


A  LODGING  FOR  THE  NIGHT 

A  STORY  OF  FRANCIS  VILLON 

IT  was  late  in  November,  1456.  The  snow  fell  over 
Paris  with  rigorous,  relentless  persistence;  sometimes  the 
wind  made  a  sally  and  scattered  it  in  flying  vortices; 
sometimes  there  was  a  lull,  and  flake  after  flake  descended 
out  of 'the  black  night  air,  silent,  circuitous,  intermina- 
ble. To  poor  people,  looking  up  under  moist  eyebrows, 
it  seemed  a  wonder  where  it  all  came  from.  Master 
Francis  Villon  had  propounded  an  alternative  that  after- 
noon, at  a  tavern  window:  was  it  only  Pagan  Jupiter 
plucking  geese  upon  Olympus?  or  were  the  holy  angels 
moulting?  He  was  only  a  poor  Master  of  Arts,  he  went 
on;  and  as  the  question  somewhat  touched  upon  divinity, 
he  durst  not  venture  to  conclude.  A  silly  old  priest  from 
Montargis,  who  was  among  the  company,  treated  the? 
young  rascal  to  a  bottle  of  wine  in  honor  of  the  jest  and 
grimaces  with  which  it  was  accompanied,  and  swore  on 
his  own  white  beard  that  he  had  been  just  such  another 
irreverent  dog  when  he  was  Villon's  age. 

The  air  was  raw  and  pointed,  but  not  far  below  freez- 
ing; and  the  flakes  were  large,  damp,  and  adhesive.  The 
whole  city  was  sheeted  up.  An  army  might  have  marched 
from  end  to  end  and  not  a  footfall  given  the  alarm.  If 
there  were  any  belated  birds  in  heaven,  they  saw  the 
island  like  a  large  white  patch,  and  the  bridges  like  slim 
white  spars,  on  the  black  ground  of  the  river.  High  up 
overhead  the  snow  settled  among  the  tracery  of  the 


252  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

cathedral  towers.  Many  a  niche  was  drifted  full;  many  a 
statue  wore  a  long  white  bonnet  on  its  grotesque  or  sainted 
head.  The  gargoyles  had  been  transformed  into  great 
false  noses,  drooping  towards  the  point.  The  crockets 
were  like  upright  pillows  swollen  on  one  side.  In  the 
intervals  of  the  wind,  there  was  a  dull  sound  of  dripping 
about  the  precincts  of  the  church. 

The  cemetery  of  St.  John  had  taken  its  own  share  of 
the  snow.  All  the  graves  were  decently  covered;  tall 
white  housetops  stood  around  in  grave  array;  worthy 
burghers  were  long  ago  in  bed,  be-nightcapped  like  their 
domiciles;  there  was  no  light  in  all  the  neighborhood  but 
a  little  peep  from  a  lamp  that  hung  swinging  in  the 
church  choir,  and  tossed  the  shadows  to  and  fro  in  time 
to  its  oscillations.  The  clock  was  hard  on  ten  when  the 
patrol  went  by  with  halberds  and  a  lantern,  beating  their 
hands;  and  they  saw  nothing  suspicious  about  the  ceme- 
tery of  St.  John. 

Yet  there  was  a  small  house,  backed  up  against  the 
cemetery  wall,  which  was  still  awake,  and  awake  to  evil 
purpose,  in  that  snoring  district.  There  was  not  much  to 
betray  it  from  without;  only  a  stream  of  warm  vapor 
from  the  chimney-top,  a  patch  where  the  snow  melted  on 
the  roof,  and  a  few  half-obliterated  footprints  at  the  door. 
But  within,  behind  the  shuttered  windows,  Master  Francis 
Villon  the  poet,  and  some  of  the  thievish  crew  with  whom 
he  consorted,  were  keeping  the  night  alive  and  passing 
round  the  bottle. 

A  great  pile  of  living  embers  diffused  a  strong  and 
ruddy  glow  from  the  arched  chimney.  Before  this  strad- 
dled Dom  Nicolas,  the  Picardy  monk,  with  his  skirts 
picked  up  and  his  fat  legs  bared  to  the  comfortable 
warmth.  His  dilated  shadow  cut  the  room  in  half;  and 
the  firelight  only  escaped  on  either  side  of  his  broad  per- 


A  LODGING  FOR  THE  NIGHT  253 

son,  and  in  a  little  pool  between  his  outspread  feet.  His 
face  had  the  beery,  bruised  appearance  of  the  continual 
drinker's;  it  was  covered  with  a  network  of  congested 
veins,  purple  in  ordinary  circumstances,  but  now  pale 
violet,  for  even  with  his  back  to  the  fire  the  cold  pinched 
him  on  the  other  side.  His  cowl  had  half  fallen  back,  and 
made  a  strange  excrescence  on  either  side  of  his  bull 
neck.  So  he  straddled,  grumbling,  and  cut  the  room  in 
half  with  the  shadow  of  his  portly  frame. 

On  the  right,  Villon  and  Guy  Tabary  were  huddled 
together  over  a  scrap  of  parchment;  Villon  making  a 
ballade  which  he  was  to  call  the  "Ballade  of  Roast  Fish," 
and  Tabary  spluttering  admiration  at  his  shoulder.  The 
poet  was  a  rag  of  a  man,  dark,  little,  and  lean,  with 
hollow  cheeks  and  thin  black  locks.  He  carried  his  four- 
and-twenty  years  with  feverish  animation.  Greed  had 
made  folds  about  his  eyes,  evil  smiles  had  puckered  his 
mouth.  The  wolf  and  pig  struggled  together  in  his  face. 
It  was  an  eloquent,  sharp,  ugly,  earthly  countenance.  His 
hands  were  small  and  prehensile,  with  fingers  knotted  like 
a  cord;  and  they  were  continually  flickering  in  front  of 
him  in  violent  and  expressive  pantomime.  As  for  Tabary, 
a  broad,  complacent,  admiring  imbecility  breathed  from 
his  squash  nose  and  slobbering  lips:  he  had  become  a 
thief,  just  as  he  might  have  become  the  most  decent  of 
burgesses,  by  the  imperious  chance  that  rules  the  lives  of 
human  geese  and  human  donkeys. 

At  the  monk's  other  hand,  Montigny  and  Thevenin 
Pensete  played  a  game  of  chance.  About  the  first  there 
clung  some  flavor  of  good  birth  and  training,  as  about  a 
fallen  angel;  something  long,  lithe,  and  courtly  in  the 
person;  something  aquiline  and  darkling  in  the  face. 
Thevenin,  poor  soul,  was  in  great  feather:  he  had  done  a 
good  stroke  of  knavery  that  afternoon  in  the  Faubourg 


254  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

St.  Jacques,  and  all  night  he  had  been  gaining  from  Mon- 
tigny.  A  flat  smile  illuminated  his  face;  his  bald  head 
shone  rosily  in  a  garland  of  red  curls;  his  little  protu- 
berant stomach  shook  with  silent  chucklings  as  he  swept 
in  his  gains. 

"Doubles  or  quits?"  said  Thevenin. 

Montigny  nodded  grimly. 

"Some  may  prefer  to  dine  in  state,"  wrote  Villon,  "On 
bread  and  cheese  on  silver  plate.  Or,  or — help  me  out, 
Guido!" 

Tabary  giggled. 

"Or  parsley  on  a  golden  dish,"  scribbled  the  poet. 

The  wind  was  freshening  without;  it  drove  the  snow 
before  it,  and  sometimes  raised  its  voice  in  a  victorious 
whoop,  and  made  sepulchral  grumblings  in  the  chimney. 
The  cold  was  growing  sharper  as  the  night  went  on. 
Villon,  protruding  his  lips,  imitated  the  gust  with  some- 
thing between  a  whistle  and  a  groan.  It  was  an  eerie, 
uncomfortable  talent  of  the  poets,  much  detested  by  the 
Picardy  monk.  \ 

"Can't  you  hear  it  rattle  in  the  gibbet?"  said  Villon. 
"They  are  all  dancing  the  devil's  jig  on  nothing,  up 
there.  You  may  dance,  my  gallants,  you'll  be  none  the 
warmer!  Whew!  what  a  gust!  Down  went  somebody 
just  now!  A  medlar  the  fewer  on  the  three-legged 
medlar-tree! — I  say,  Dom  Nicholas,  it'll  be  cold  to-night 
on  the  St.  Denis  Road?"  he  asked. 

Dom  Nicolas  winked  both  his  big  eyes,  and  seemed  to 
choke  upon  his  Adam's  apple.  Montfaucon,  the  great 
grisly  Paris  gibbet,  stood  hard  by  the  St.  Denis  Road, 
and  the  pleasantry  touched  him  on  the  raw.  As  for 
Tabary,  he  laughed  immoderately  over  the  medlars;  he 
had  never  heard  anything  more  light-hearted;  and  he  held 
his  sides  and  crowed.  Villon  fetched  him  a  fillip  on 


A  LODGING  FOR  THE  NIGHT  255 

the  nose,  which  turned  his  mirth  into  an  attack  of 
coughing. 

"Oh,  stop  that  row,"  said  Villon,  "and  think  of  rhymes 
to  'fish.'  " 

"Doubles  or  quits,"  said  Montigny  doggedly. 

"With  all  my  heart,"  quoth  Thevenin. 

"Is  there  any  more  in  that  bottle?"  asked  the  monk. 

"Open  another,"  said  Villon.  "How  do  you  ever  hope 
to  fill  that  big  hogshead,  your  body,  with  little  things 
like  bottles?  And  how  do  you  expect  to  get  to  heaven? 
How  many  angels,  do  you  fancy,  can  be  spared  to  carry  up 
a  single  monk  from  Picardy?  Or  do  you  think  yourself 
another  Elias — and  they'll  send  the  coach  for  you?" 

"Hominibus  impossibile,"  replied  the  monk  as  he  filled 
his  glass. 

Tabary  was  in  ecstasies. 

Villon  filliped  his  nose  again. 

"Laugh  at  my  jokes,  if  you  like,"  he  said. 

"It  was  very  good,"  objected  Tabary. 

Villon  made  a  face  at  him.  "Think  of  rhymes  to 
'fish,'  "  he  said.  "What  have  you  to  do  with  Latin? 
You'll  wish  you  knew  none  of  it  at  the  great  assizes, 
when  the  devil  calls  for  Guido  Tabary,  clericus — the  devil 
with  the  hump-back  and  red-hot  finger-nails.  Talking  of 
the  devil,"  he  added  in  a  whisper,  "look  at  Montigny!" 

All  three  peered  covertly  at  the  gamester.  He  did  not 
seem  to  be  enjoying  his  luck.  His  mouth  was  a  little  to 
a  side;  one  nostril  nearly  shut,  and  the  other  much  in- 
flated. The  black  dog  was  on  his  back,  as  people  say,  in 
terrifying  nursery  metaphor;  and  he  breathed  hard  under 
the  gruesome  burden. 

"He  looks  as  if  he  could  knife  him,"  whispered  Ta- 
bary, with  round  eyes. 

The  monk  shuddered,  and  turned  his  face  and  spread 


J56  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

his  open  hands  to  the  red  embers.  It  was  the  cold  that 
thus  affected  Dom  Nicolas,  and  not  any  excess  of  moral 
sensibility. 

"Come  now,"  said  Villon — "about  this  ballade.  How 
does  it  run  so  far?"  And  beating  time  with  his  hand,  he 
read  it  aloud  to  Tabary. 

They  were  interrupted  at  the  fourth  rhyme  by  a  brief 
and  fatal  movement  among  the  gamesters.  The  round 
was  completed,  and  Thevenin  was  just  opening  his  mouth 
to  claim  another  victory,  when  Montigny  leaped  up,  swift 
as  an  adder,  and  stabbed  him  to  the  heart.  The  blow 
took  effect  before  he  had  time  to  utter  a  cry,  before  he 
had  time  to  move.  A  tremor  or  two  convulsed  his  frame; 
his  hands  opened  and  shut,  his  heels  rattled  on  the  floor; 
then  his  head  rolled  backward  over  one  shoulder  with  the 
eyes  wide  open,  and  Thevenin  Pensete's  spirit  had  returned 
to  Him  who  made  it. 

Everyone  sprang  to  his  feet;  but  the  business  was  over 
in  two  twos.  The  four  living  fellows  looked  at  each  other 
in  rather  a  ghastly  fashion;  the  dead  man  contemplating 
a  corner  of  the  roof  with  a  singular  and  ugly  leer. 

"My  God!"  said  Tabary;  and  he  began  to  pray  in  Latin. 

Villon  broke  out  into  hysterical  laughter.  He  came  a 
step  forward  and  ducked  a  ridiculous  bow  at  Thevenin, 
and  laughed  still  louder.  Then  he  sat  down  suddenly,  all 
of  a  heap,  upon  a  stool,  and  continued  laughing  bitterly 
as  though  he  would  shake  himself  to  pieces. 

Montigny  recovered  his  composure  first. 

"Let's  see  what  he  has  about  him,"  he  remarked,  and 
he  picked  the  dead  man's  pockets  with  a  practiced  hand, 
and  divided  the  money  into  four  equal  portions  on  the 
table.  "There's  for  you,"  he  said. 

The  monk  received  his  share  with  a  deep  sigh,  and  a 
single  stealthy  glance  at  the  dead  Thevenin,  who  was 


A  LODGING  FOR  THE  NIGHT  257 

beginning  to  sink  into  himself  and  topple  sideways  off 
the  chair. 

"We're  all  in  for  it,"  cried  Villon,  swallowing  his 
mirth.  "It's  a  hanging  job  for  every  man  jack  of  us 
that's  here — not  to  speak  of  those  who  aren't."  He 
made  a  shocking  gesture  in  the  air  with  his  raised  right 
hand,  and  put  out  his  tongue  and  threw  his  head  on  one 
side,  so  as  to  counterfeit  the  appearance  of  one  who  has 
been  hanged.  Then  he  pocketed  his  share  of  the  spoil, 
and  executed  a  shuffle  with  his  feet  as  if  to  restore  the 
circulation. 

Tabary  was  the  last  to  help  himself;  he  made  a  dash  at 
the  money,  and  retired  to  the  other  end  of  the  apartment. 

Montigny  stuck  Thevenin  upright  in  the  chair,  and  drew 
out  the  dagger,  which  was  followed  by  a  jet  of  blood. 

"You  fellows  had  better  be  moving,"  he  said,  as  he 
wiped  the  blade  on  his  victim's  doublet. 

"I  think  we  had,"  returned  Villon,  with  a  gulp. 
"Damn  his  fat  head!"  he  broke  out.  "It  sticks  in  my 
throat  like  phlegm.  What  right  has  a  man  to  have  red 
hair  when  he  is  dead?"  And  he  fell  all  of  a  heap  again 
upon  the  stool,  and  fairly  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

Montigny  and  Dom  Nicholas  laughed  aloud,  even  Tabary 
feebly  chiming  in. 

"Cry  baby,"  said  the  monk. 

"I  always  said  he  was  a  woman,"  added  Montigny, 
with  a  sneer.  "Sit  up,  can't  you?"  he  went  on,  giving 
another  shake  to  the  murdered  body.  "Tread  out  that 
fire,  Nick!" 

But  Nick  was  better  employed ;  he  was  quietly  taking 
Villon's  purse,  as  the  poet  sat,  limp  and  trembling,  on 
the  stool  where  he  had  been  making  a  ballade  not  three 
minutes  before.  Montigny  and  Tabary  dumbly  demanded 
a  share  of  the  booty,  which  the  monk  silently  promised  as 


258  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

he  passed  the  little  bag  into  the  bosom  of  his  gown.  In 
many  ways  an  artistic  nature  unfits  a  man  for  practical 
existence. 

No  sooner  had  the  theft  been  accomplished  than  Villon 
shook  himself,  jumped  to  his  feet,  and  began  helping  to 
scatter  and  extinguish  the  embers.  Meanwhile  Montigny 
opened  the  door  and  cautiously  peered  into  the  street. 
The  coast  was  clear;  there  was  no  meddlesome  patrol  in 
sight.  Still  it  was  judged  wiser  to  slip  out  severally; 
and  as  Villon  was  himself  in  a  hurry  to  escape  from  the 
neighborhood  of  the  dead  Thevenin,  and  the  rest  were  in 
a  still  greater  hurry  to  get  rid  of  him  before  he  should 
discover  the  loss  of  his  money,  he  was  the  first  by  general 
consent  to  issue  forth  into  the  street. 

The  wind  had  triumphed  and  swept  all  the  clouds  from 
heaven.  Only  a  few  vapors,  as  thin  as  moonlight,  fleeted 
rapidly  across  the  stars.  It  was  bitter  cold;  and  by  a 
common  optical  effect,  things  seemed  almost  more  definite 
than  in  the  broadest  daylight.  The  sleeping  city  was 
absolutely  still;  a  company  of  white  hoods,  a  field  full  of 
little  alps,  below  the  twinkling  stars.  Villon  cursed  his 
fortune.  Would  it  were  still  snowing!  Now,  wherever 
he  went,  he  left  an  indelible  trail  behind  him  on  the 
glittering  streets;  wherever  he  went  he  was  still  tethered 
to  the  house  by  the  cemetery  of  St.  John;  wherever  he 
went  he  must  weave,  with  his  own  plodding  feet,  the  rope 
that  bound  him  to  the  crime  and  would  bind  him  to  the 
gallows.  The  leer  of  the  dead  man  came  back  to  him  with 
a  new  significance.  He  snapped  his  fingers  as  if  to  pluck 
up  his  own  spirits,  and  choosing  a  street  at  random, 
stepped  boldly  forward  in  the  snow. 

Two  things  preoccupied  him  as  he  went;  the  aspect  of 
the  gallows  at  Montfaucon  in  this  bright,  windy  phase  of 
the  night's  existence,  for  one;  and  for  another,  the  look 


A  LODGING  FOR  THE  NIGHT  259 

of  the  dead  man  with  his  bald  head  and  garland  of  red 
curls.  Both  struck  cold  upon  his  heart,  and  he  kept 
quickening  his  pace  as  if  he  could  escape  from  unpleasant 
thoughts  by  mere  fleetness  of  foot.  Sometimes  he  looked 
back  over  his  shoulder  with  a  sudden  nervous  jerk;  but 
he  was  the  only  moving  thing  in  the  white  streets,  except 
when  the  wind  swooped  round  a  corner  and  threw  up  the 
snow,  which  was  beginning  to  freeze,  in  spouts  of  glit- 
tering dust. 

Suddenly  he  saw,  a  long  way  before  him,  a  black  clump 
and  a  couple  of  lanterns.  The  clump  was  in  motion,  and 
the  lanterns  swung  as  though  carried  by  men  walking. 
It  was  a  patrol.  And  though  it  was  merely  crossing  his 
line  of  march  he  judged  it  wiser  to  get  out  of  eyeshot  as 
speedily  as  he  could.  He  was  not  in  the  humor  to  be 
challenged,  and  he  was  conscious  of  making  a  very  con- 
spicuous mark  upon  the  snow.  Just  on  his  left  hand  there 
stood  a  great  hotel,  with  some  turrets  and  a  large  porch 
before  the  door;  it  was  half -ruinous,  he  remembered,  and 
had  long  stood  empty;  and  so  he  made  three  steps  of  it, 
and  jumped  into  the  shelter  of  the  porch.  It  was  pretty 
dark  inside,  after  the  glimmer  of  the  snowy  streets,  and 
he  was  groping  forward  with  outspread  hands,  when  he 
stumbled  over  some  substance  which  offered  an  indescri- 
bable mixture  of  resistances,  hard  and  soft,  firm  and  loose. 
His  heart  gave  a  leap,  and  he  sprang  two  steps  back  and 
stared  dreadfully  at  the  obstacle.  Then  he  gave  a  little 
laugh  of  relief.  It  was  only  a  woman,  and  she  dead.  He 
knelt  beside  her  to  make  sure  upon  this  latter  point.  She 
was  freezing  cold,  and  rigid  like  a  stick.  A  little  ragged 
finery  fluttered  in  the  wind  about  her  hair,  and  her  cheeks 
had  been  heavily  rouged  that  same  afternoon.  Her  pockets 
were  quite  empty;  but  in  her  stocking,  underneath  the 
garter,  Villon  found  two  of  the  small  coins  that  went  by 


260  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

the  name  of  whites.  It  was  little  enough;  but  it  was 
always  something;  and  the  poet  was  moved  with  a  deep 
sense  of  pathos  that  she  should  have  died  before  she  had 
spent  her  money.  That  seemed  to  him  a  dark  and  pitiable 
mystery;  and  he  looked  from  the  coins  in  his  hand  to  the 
dead  woman,  and  back  again  to  the  coins,  shaking  his 
head  over  the  riddle  of  man's  life.  Henry  V.  of  England, 
dying  at  Vincennes  just  after  he  had  conquered  France, 
and  this  poor  jade  cut  off  by  a  cold  draught  in  a  great 
man's  doorway,  before  she  had  time  to  spend  her  couple 
of  whites — it  seemed  a  cruel  way  to  carry  on  the  world. 
Two  whites  would  have  taken  such  a  little  while  to  squan- 
der; and  yet  it  would  have  been  one  more  good  taste  in 
the  mouth,  one  more  smack  of  the  lips,  before  the  devil 
got  the  soul,  and  the  body  was  left  to  birds  and  vermin. 
He  would  like  to  use  all  his  tallow  before  the  light  was 
blown  out  and  the  lantern  broken. 

While  these  thoughts  were  passing  through  his  mind, 
he  was  feeling,  half  mechanically,  for  his  purse.  Sud- 
denly his  heart  stopped  beating;  a  feeling  of  cold  scales 
passed  up  the  back  of  his  legs,  and  a  cold  blow  seemed  to 
fall  upon  his  scalp.  He  stood  petrified  for  a  moment; 
then  he  felt  again  with  one  feverish  movement;  and  then 
his  loss  burst  upon  him,  and  he  was  covered  at  once  with 
perspiration.  To  spendthrifts  money  is  so  living  and 
actual — it  is  such  a  thin  veil  between  them  and  their 
pleasures!  There  is  only  one  limit  to  their  fortune — that 
of  time;  and  a  spendthrift  with  only  a  few  crowns  is  the 
Emperor  of  Rome  until  they  are  spent.  For  such  a  person 
to  lose  his  money  is  to  suffer  the  most  shocking  reverse, 
and  fall  from  heaven  to  hell,  from  all  to  nothing,  in  a 
breath.  And  all  the  more  if  he  has  put  his  head  in  the 
halter  for  it;  if  he  may  be  hanged  to-morrow  for  that  same 
purse,  so  dearly  earned,  so  foolishly  departed!  Villon 


A  LODGING  FOR  THE  NIGHT  261 

stood  and  cursed;  he  threw  the  two  whites  into  the  street; 
he  shook  his  fist  at  heaven;  he  stamped,  and  was  not  hor- 
rified to  find  himself  trampling  the  poor  corpse.  Then  he 
began  rapidly  to  retrace  his  steps  towards  the  house  beside 
the  cemetery.  He  had  forgotten  all  fear  of  the  patrol, 
which  was  long  gone  by  at  any  rate,  and  had  no  idea  but 
that  of  his  lost  purse.  It  was  in  vain  that  he  looked 
right  and  left  upon  the  snow:  nothing  was  to  be  seen. 
He  had  not  dropped  it  in  the  streets.  Had  it  fallen  in 
the  house?  He  would  have  liked  dearly  to  go  in  and  see; 
but  the  idea  of  the  grisly  occupant  unmanned  him.  And 
he  saw  besides,  as  he  drew  near,  that  their  efforts  to  put 
out  the  fire  had  been  unsuccessful ;  on  the  contrary,  it  had 
broken  into  a  blaze,  and  a  changeful  light  played  in  the 
chinks  of  door  and  window,  and  revived  his  terror  for  the 
authorities  and  Paris  gibbet. 

He  returned  to  the  hotel  with  the  porch,  and  groped 
about  upon  the  snow  for  the  money  he  had  thrown  away 
in  his  childish  passion.  But  he  could  only  find  one  white; 
the  other  had  probably  struck  sideways  and  sunk  deeply 
in.  With  a  single  white  in  his  pocket,  all  his  projects 
for  a  rousing  night  in  some  wild  tavern  vanished  utterly 
away.  And  it  was  not  only  pleasure  that  fled  laughing 
from  his  grasp;  positive  discomfort,  positive  pain,  at- 
tacked him  as  he  stood  ruefully  before  the  porch.  His 
perspiration  had  dried  upon  him;  and  although  the  wind 
had  now  fallen,  a  binding  frost  was  setting  in  stronger 
with  every  hour,  and  he  felt  benumbed  and  sick  at  heart. 
What  was  to  be  done?  Late  as  was  the  hour,  improbable 
as  was  success,  he  would  try  the  house  of  his  adopted 
father,  the  chaplain  of  St.  Benoit. 

He  ran  there  all  the  way,  and  knocked  timidly.  There 
was  no  answer.  He  knocked  again  and  again,  taking 
heart  with  every  stroke;  and  at  last  steps  were  heard 


262  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

approaching  from  within.  A  barred  wicket  fell  open  in 
the  iron-studded  door,  and  emitted  a  gush  of  yellow  light. 

"Hold  up  your  face  to  the  wicket,"  said  the  chaplain 
from  within. 

"It's  only  me,"  whimpered  Villon. 

"Oh,  it's  only  you,  is  it?"  returned  the  chaplain;  and 
he  cursed  him  with  foul  unpriestly  oaths  for  disturbing 
him  at  such  an  hour,  and  bade  him  be  off  to  hell,  where 
he  came  from. 

"My  hands  are  blue  to  the  wrist,"  pleaded  Villon;  "my 
feet  are  dead  and  full  of  twinges;  my  nose  aches  with  the 
sharp  air;  the  cold  lies  at  my  heart.  I  may  be  dead  before 
morning.  Only  this  once,  father,  and  before  God,  I  will 
never  ask  again!" 

"You  should  have  come  earlier,"  said  the  ecclesiastic 
coolly.  "Young  men  require  a  lesson  now  and  then." 
He  shut  the  wicket  and  retired  deliberately  into  the 
interior  of  the  house. 

Villon  was  beside  himself;  he  beat  upon  the  door  with 
his  hands  and  feet,  and  shouted  hoarsely  after  the  chaplain. 

"Wormy  old  fox!"  he  cried.  "If  I  had  my  hand  under 
your  twist,  I  would  send  you  flying  headlong  into  the 
bottomless  pit. ' ' 

A  door  shut  in  the  interior,  faintly  audible  to  the  poet 
down  long  passages.  He  passed  his  hand  over  his  mouth 
with  an  oath.  And  then  the  humor  of  the  situation  struck 
him,  and  he  laughed  and  looked  lightly  up  to  heaven, 
where  the  stars  seemed  to  be  winking  over  his  discom- 
fiture. 

What  was  to  be  done?  It  looked  very  like  a  night  in 
the  frosty  streets.  The  idea  of  the  dead  woman  popped 
into  his  imagination,  and  gave  him  a  hearty  fright;  what 
had  happened  to  her  in  the  early  night  might  very  well 
happen  to  him  before  morning.  And  he  so  young!  and 


A  LODGING  FOR  THE  NIGHT  263 

with  such  immense  possibilities  of  disorderly  amusement 
before  him!  He  felt  quite  pathetic  over  the  notion  of 
his  own  fate,  as  if  it  had  been  some  one  else's,  and  made 
a  little  imaginative  vignette  of  the  scene  in  the  morning 
when  they  should  find  his  body. 

He  passed  all  his  chances  under  review,  turning  the 
white  between  his  thumb  and  forefinger.  Unfortunately 
he  was  on  bad  terms  with  some  old  friends  who  would 
once  have  taken  pity  on  him  in  such  a  plight.  He  had 
lampooned  them  in  verses;  he  had  beaten  and  cheated 
them;  and  yet  now,  when  he  was  in  so  close  a  pinch,  he 
thought  there  was  at  least  one  who  might  perhaps  relent. 
It  was  a  chance.  It  was  worth  trying  at  least,  and  he 
would  go  and  see. 

On  the  way,  two  little  accidents  happened  to  him  which 
colored  his  musings  in  a  very  different  manner.  For, 
first,  he  fell  in  with  the  track  of  a  patrol,  and  walked  in 
it  for  some  hundred  yards,  although  it  lay  out  of  his 
direction.  And  this  spirited  him  up;  at  least  he  had  con- 
fused his  trail;  for  he  was  still  possessed  with  the  idea  of 
people  tracking  him  all  about  Paris  over  the  snow,  and 
collaring  him  next  morning  before  he  was  awake.  The 
other  matter  affected  him  quite  differently.  He  passed  a 
street  corner,  where,  not  so  long  before,  a  woman  and  her 
child  had  been  devoured  by  wolves.  This  was  just  the 
kind  of  weather,  he  reflected,  when  wolves  might  take  it 
into  their  heads  to  enter  Paris  again;  and  a  lone  man  in 
these  deserted  streets  would  run  the  chance  of  something 
worse  than  a  mere  scare.  He  stopped  and  looked  upon 
the  place  with  an  unpleasant  interest — it  was  a  centre 
where  several  lanes  intersected  each  other;  and  he  looked 
down  them  all,  one  after  another,  and  held  his  breath  to 
listen,  lest  he  should  detect  some  galloping  black  things 
on  the  snow  or  hear  the  sound  of  howling  between  him 


264  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

and  the  river.  He  remembered  his  mother  telling  him 
the  story  and  pointing  out  the  spot,  while  he  was  yet  a 
child.  His  mother!  If  he  only  knew[where  she  lived,  he 
might  make  sure  at  least  of  shelter.  He  determined  he 
would  inquire  upon  the  morrow;  nay,  he  would  go  and 
see  her  too,  poor  old  girl !  So  thinking,  he  arrived  at  his 
destination — his  last  hope  for  the  night. 

The  house  was  quite  dark,  like  its  neighbors;  and  yet 
after  a  few  taps,  he  heard  a  movement  overhead,  a  door 
opening,  and  a  cautious  voice  asking  who  was  there.  The 
poet  named  himself  in  a  loud  whisper,  and  waited,  not 
without  some  trepidation,  the  result.  Nor  had  he  to  wait 
long  A  window  was  suddenly  opened,  and  a  pailful  of 
slops  splashed  down  upon  the  doorstep.  Villon  had  not 
been  unprepared  for  something  of  the  sort,  and  had  put 
himself  as  much  in  shelter  as  the  nature  of  the  porch 
admitted;  but  for  all  that,  he  was  deplorably  drenched 
below  the  waist.  His  hose  began  to  freeze  almost  at 
once.  Death  from  cold  and  exposure  stared  him  in  the 
face;  he  remembered  he  was  of  phthisical  tendency,  and 
began  coughing  tentatively.  But  the  gravity  of  the 
danger  steadied  his  nerves.  He  stopped  a  few  hundred 
yards  from  the  door  where  he  had  been  so  rudely  used, 
and  reflected  with  his  finger  to  his  nose.  He  could  only 
see  one  way  of  getting  a  lodging,  and  that  was  to  take 
it.  He  had  noticed  a  house  not  far  away,  which  looked  as 
if  it  might  be  easily  broken  into,  and  thither  he  betook 
himself  promptly,  entertaining  himself  on  the  way  with 
the  idea  of  a  room  still  hot,  with  a  table  still  loaded  with 
the  remains  of  supper,  where  he  might  pass  the  rest  of 
the  black  hours  and  whence  he  should  issue,  on  the  mor- 
row, with  an  armful  of  valuable  plate.  He  even  consid- 
ered on  what  viands  and  what  wines  he  should  prefer;  and 
as  he  was  calling  the  roll  of  his  favorite  dainties,  roast 


A  LODGING  FOR  THE  NIGHT  265 

fish  presented  itself  to  his  mind  with  an  odd  mixture  of 
amusement  and  horror. 

"I  shall  never  finish  that  ballade,"  he  thought  to  him- 
self; and  then,  with  another  shudder  at  the  recollection, 
"Oh,  damn  his  fat  head!"  he  repeated  fervently,  and  spat 
upon  the  snow. 

The  house  in  question  looked  dark  at  first  sight;  but  as 
Villon  made  a  preliminary  inspection  in  search  of  the 
handiest  point  of  attack,  a  little  twinkle  of  light  caught 
his  eye  from  behind  a  curtained  window. 

"The  devil!"  he  thought.  "People  awake!  Some  stu- 
dent or  some  saint,  confound  the  crew!  Can't  they  get 
drunk  and  lie  in  bed  snoring  like  their  neighbors!  What's 
the  good  of  curfew,  and  poor  devils  of  bell-ringers  jump- 
ing at  a  rope's  end  in  bell-towers?  What's  the  use  of 
day,  if  people  sit  up  all  night?  The  gripes  to  them!" 
He  grinned  as  he  saw  where  his  logic  was  leading  him. 
"Every  man  to  his  business,  after  all,"  added  he,  "and 
if  they're  awake,  by  the  Lord,  I  may  come  by  a  supper 
honestly  for  once,  and  cheat  the  devil." 

He  went  boldly  to  the  door  and  knocked  with  an  assured 
hand.  On  both  previous  occasions,  he  had  knocked  tim- 
idly and  with  some  dread  of  attracting  notice;  but  now 
when  he  had  just  discarded  the  thought  of  a  burglarious 
entry,  knocking  at  a  door  seemed  a  mighty  simple  and 
innocent  proceeding.  The  sound  of  his  blows  echoed 
through  the  house  with  thin,  phantasmal  reverberations, 
as  though  it  were  quite  empty;  but  these  had  scarcely 
died  away  before  a  measured  tread  drew  near,  a  couple  of 
bolts  were  withdrawn,  and  one  wing  was  opened  broadly, 
as  though  no  guile  or  fear  of  guile  were  known  to  those 
within.  A  tall  figure  of  a  man,  muscular  and  spare,  but 
a  little  bent  confronted  Villon.  The  head  was  massive  in 
bulk,  but  finely  sculptured;  the  nose  blunt  at  the  bottom, 


266  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

but  refining  upward  to  where  it  joined  a  pair  of  strong 
and  honest  eyebrows;  the  mouth  and  eyes  surrounded 
with  delicate  markings,  and  the  whole  face  based  upon  a 
thick  white  beard,  boldly  and  squarely  trimmed.  Seen  as 
it  was  by  the  light  of  a  flickering  hand-lamp,  it  looked 
perhaps  nobler  than  it  had  a  right  to  do ;  but  it  was  a  fine 
face,  honorable  rather  than  intelligent,  strong,  simple, 
and  righteous. 

"You  knock  late,  sir,"  said  the  old  man  in  resonant, 
courteous  tones. 

Villon  cringed,  and  brought  up  many  servile  words  of 
apology;  at  a  crisis  of  this  sort,  the  beggar  was  upper- 
most in  him,  and  the  man  of  genius  hid  his  head  with 
confusion. 

"You  are  cold,"  repeated  the  old  man,  "and  hungry? 
Well,  step  in."  And  he  ordered  him  into  the  house  with 
a  noble  enough  gesture. 

"Some  great  seigneur,"  thought  Villon,  as  his  host, 
setting  down  the  lamp  on  the  flagged  pavement  of  the 
entry,  shot  the  bolts  once  more  into  their  places. 

"You  will  pardon  me  if  I  go  in  front,"  he  said,  when 
this  was  done;  and  he  preceded  the  poet  up-stairs  into  a 
large  apartment,  warmed  with  a  pan  of  charcoal  and  lit 
by  a  great  lamp  hanging  from  the  roof.  It  was  veryjbare 
of  furniture:  only  some  gold  plate  on  a  sideboard;  some 
folios;  and  a  stand  of  armor  between  the  windows.  Some 
smart  tapestry  hung  upon  the  walls,  representing  the 
crucifixion  of  our  Lord  in  one  piece,  and  in  another  a 
scene  of  shepherds  and  shepherdesses  by  a  running  stream. 
Over  the  chimney  was  a  shield  of  arms. 

"Will  you  seat  yourself,"  said  the  old  man,  "and  for- 
give me  if  I  leave  you?  I  am  alone  in  my  house  to-night, 
and  if  you  are  to  eat  I  must  forage  for  you  myself. ' ' 

No  sooner  was  his  host  gone  than  Villon  leaped  from 


A  LODGING  FOR  THE  NIGHT  267 

the  chair  on  which  he  had  just  seated  himself,  and  began 
examining  the  room,  with  the  stealth  and  passion  of  a 
cat.  He  weighed  the  gold  flagons  in  his  hand,  opened  all 
the  folios,  and  investigated  the  arms  upon  the  shield,  and 
the  stuff  with  which  the  seats  were  lined.  He  raised  the 
window  curtains,  and  saw  that  the  windows  were  set  with 
rich  stained  glass  in  figures,  so  far  as  he  could  see,  of 
martial  import.  Then  he  stood  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  drew  a  long  breath,  and  retaining  it  with  puffed 
cheeks,  looked  round  and  round  him,  turning  on  his 
heels,  as  if  to  impress  every  feature  of  the  apartment  on 
his  memory. 

"Seven  pieces  of  plate,"  he  said.  "If  there  had  been 
ten,  I  would  have  risked  it.  A  fine  house,  and  a  fine  old 
master,  so  help  me  all  the  saints!" 

And  just  then,  hearing  the  old  man's  tread  returning 
along  the  corridor,  he  stole  back  to  his  chair,  and  began 
humbly  toasting  his  wet  legs  before  the  charcoal  pan. 

His  entertainer  had  a  plate  of  meat  in  one  hand  and  a 
jug  of  wine  in  the  other.  He  sat  down  the  plate  upon  the 
table,  motioning  Villon  to  draw  in  his  chair,  and  going 
to  the  sideboard,  brought  back  two  goblets,  which  he 
filled. 

"I  drink  your  better  fortune,"  he  said,  gravely  touch- 
ing Villon's  cup  with  his  own. 

"To  our  better  acquaintance,"  said  the  poet,  growing 
bold.  A  mere  man  of  the  people  would  have  been  awed 
by  the  courtesy  of  the  old  seigneur,  but  Villon  was  hard- 
ened in  that  matter;  he  had  made  mirth  for  great  lords 
before  now,  and  found  them  as  black  rascals  as  himself. 
And  so  he  devoted  himself  to  the  viands  with  a  ravenous 
gusto,  while  the  old  man,  leaning  backward,  watched  him 
with  steady,  curious  eyes. 

"You  have  blood  on  your  shoulder,  my  man,"  he  said. 


268  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

Montigny  must  have  laid  his  wet  hand  upon  him  as  he 
left  the  house.  He  cursed  Montigny  in  his  heart. 

"It  was  none  of  my  shedding,"  he  stammered. 

"I  had  not  supposed  so,"  returned  his  host  quietly. 
"A  brawl?" 

"Well,  something  of  that  sort,"  Villon  admitted  with 
a  quaver. 

"Perhaps  a  fellow  murdered?" 

"Oh,  no,  not  murdered,"  said  the  poet,  more  and  more 
confused.  "It  was  all  fair  play — murdered  by  accident. 
I  had  no  hand  in  it,  God  strike  me  dead!"  he  added 
fervently. 

"One  rogue  the  fewer,  I  dare  say,"  observed  the  mas- 
ter of  the  house. 

"You  may  dare  to  say  that,"  agreed  Villon,  infinitely 
relieved.  "As  big  a  rogue  as  there  is  between  here  and 
Jerusalem.  He  turned  up  his  toes  like  a  lamb.  But  it 
was  a  nasty  thing  to  look  at.  I  dare  say  you've  seen  dead 
men  in  your  time,  my  lord?"  he  added,  glancing  at  the 
armor. 

"Many,"  said  the  old  man.  "I  have  followed  the  wars, 
as  you  imagine. ' ' 

Villon  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork,  which  he  had  just 
taken  up  again. 

"Were  any  of  them  bald?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  yes;  and  with  hair  as  white  as  mine." 

"I  don't  think  I  should  mind  the  white  so  much,"  said 
Villon.  "His  was  red."  And  he  had  a  return  of  his 
shuddering  and  tendency  to  laughter,  which  he  drowned 
with  a  great  draught  of  wine.  "I'm  a  little  put  out  when 
I  think  of  it,"  he  went  on.  "I  knew  him — damn  him! 
And  then  the  cold  gives  a  man  fancies — or  the  fancies 
give  a  man  cold,  I  don't  know  which." 

"Have  you  any  money?"  asked  the  old  man. 


A  LODGING  FOR  THE  NIGHT  269 

"I  have  one  white,"  returned  the  poet,  laughing.  "I 
got  it  out  of  a  dead  jade's  stocking  in  a  porch.  She  was 
as  dead  as  Caesar,  poor  wench,  and  as  cold  as  a  church, 
with  bits  of  ribbon  sticking  in  her  hair.  This  is  a  hard 
world  in  winter  for  wolves  and  wenches  and  poor  rogues 
like  me." 

"I,"  said  the  old  man,  "am  Enguerrand  de  la Feuillee, 
seigneur  de  Brisetout,  bailly  du  Patatrac.  Who  and  what 
may  you  be?" 

Villon  rose  and  made  a  suitable  reverence.  "I  am 
called  Francis  Villon,"  he  said,  "a  poor  Master  of  Arts 
of  this  university.  I  know  some  Latin,  and  a  deal  of 
vice.  I  can  make  chansons,  ballades,  lais,  virelais,  and 
roundels,  and  I  am  very  fond  of  wine.  I  was  born  in  a 
garret,  and  I  shall  not  improbably  die  upon  the  gallows. 
I  may  add,  my  lord,  that  from  this  night  forward  I  am 
your  lordship's  very  obsequious  servant  to  command." 

"No  servant  of  mine,"  said  the  knight;  "my  guest  for 
this  evening,  and  no  more. ' ' 

"A  very  grateful  guest,"  said  Villon  politely,  and  he 
drank  in  dumb  show  to  his  entertainer. 

"You  are  shrewd,"  began  the  old  man,  tapping  his 
forehead,  "very  shrewd;  you  have  learning;  you  are  a 
clerk;  and  yet  you  take  a  small  piece  of  money  off  a  dead 
woman  in  the  street.  Is  it  not  a  kind  of  theft?" 

"It  is  a  kind  of  theft  much  practised  in  the  wars,  my 
lord." 

"The  wars  are  the  field  of  honor,"  returned  the  old 
man  proudly.  "There  a  man  plays  his  life  upon  the  cast; 
he  fights  in  the  name  of  his  lord  the  king,  his  Lord  God, 
and  all  their  lordships  the  holy  saints  and  angels." 

"Put  it,"  said  Villon,  "that  I  were  really  a  thief, 
should  I  not  play  my  life  also,  and  against  heavier  odds?" 

"For  gain  but  not  for  honor." 


270  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"Gain?"  repeated  Villon  with  a  shrug.  "Gain!  The 
poor  fellow  wants  supper,  and  takes  it.  So  does  the 
soldier  in  a  campaign.  Why,  what  are  all  these  requi- 
sitions we  hear  so  much  about?  If  they  are  not  gain  to 
those  who  take  them,  they  are  loss  enough  to  the  others. 
The  men-at-arms  drink  by  a  good  fire,  while  the  burgher 
bites  his  nails  to  buy  them  wine  and  wood.  I  have  seen 
a  good  many  ploughmen  swinging  on  trees  about  the 
country;  ay,  I  have  seen  thirty  on  one  elm,  and  a  very 
poor  figure  they  made ;  and  when  I  asked  someone  how  all 
these  came  to  be  hanged,  I  was  told  it  was  because  they 
could  not  scrape  together  enough  crowns  to  satisfy  the 
men-at-arms. ' ' 

"These  things  are  a  necessity  of  war,  which  the  low- 
born must  endure  with  constancy.  It  is  true  that  some 
captains  drive  overhard;  there  are  spirits  in  every  rank 
not  easily  moved  by  pity;  and  indeed  many  follow  arms 
who  are  no  better  than  brigands. ' ' 

"You  see,"  said  the  poet,  "you  cannot  separate  the 
soldier  from  the  brigand;  and  what  is  a  thief  but  an 
isolated  brigand  with  circumspect  manners?  I  steal  a 
couple  of  mutton  chops,  without  so  much  as  disturbing 
people's  sleep;  the  farmer  grumbles  a  bit,  but  sups  none 
the  less  wholesomely  on  what  remains.  You  come  up 
blowing  gloriously  on  a  trumpet,  take  away  the  whole 
sheep,  and  beat  the  farmer  pitifully  into  the  bargain.  I 
have  no  trumpet;  I  am  only  Tom,  Dick,  or  Harry;  I  am 
a  rogue  and  a  dog,  and  hanging's  too  good  for  me — with 
all  my  heart;  but  just  ask  the  farmer  which  of  us  he  pre- 
fers, just  find  out  which  of  us  he  lies  awake  to  curse  on 
cold  nights." 

"Look  at  us  two,"  said  his  lordship.  "I  am  old, 
strong,  and  honored.  If  I  were  turned  from  my  house 
to-morrow,  hundreds  would  be  proud  to  shelter  me.  Poor 


A  LODGING  FOR  THE  NIGHT  271 

people  would  go  out  and  pass  the  night  in  the  streets  with 
their  children,  if  I  merely  hinted  that  I  wished  to  be 
alone.  And  I  find  you  up,  wandering  homeless,  and  pick- 
ing farthings  off  dead  women  by  the  wayside!  I  fear  no 
man  and  nothing;  I  have  seen  you  tremble  and  lose  coun- 
tenance at  a  word.  I  wait  God's  summons  contentedly  in 
my  own  house,  or,  if  it  please  the  king  to  call  me  out 
again,  upon  the  field  of  battle.  You  look  for  the  gallows; 
a  rough,  swift  death,  without  hope  or  honor.  Is  there  no 
difference  between  these  two?" 

"As  far  as  to  the  moon,"  Villon  acquiesced.  "But  if 
I  had  been  born  lord  of  Brisetout,  and  you  had  been  the 
poor  scholar  Francis,  would  the  difference  have  been  any 
the  less?  Should  not  I  have  been  warming  my  knees  at 
this  charcoal  pan,  and  would  not  you  have  been  groping 
for  farthings  in  the  snow?  Should  not  I  have  been  the 
soldier,  and  you  the  thief?" 

"A  thief?"  cried  the  old  man.  "I  a  thief!  If  you 
understood  your  words,  you  would  repent  them." 

Villon  turned  out  his  hands  with  a  gesture  of  inimitable 
impudence.  "If  your  lordship  had  done  me  the  honor  to 
follow  my  argument!"  he  said. 

"I  do  you  too  much  honor  in  submitting  to  your  pres- 
ence," said  the  knight.  "Learn  to  curb  your  tongue 
when  you  speak  with  old  and  honorable  men,  or  some  one 
hastier  than  I  may  reprove  you  in  a  sharper  fashion." 
And  he  rose  and  paced  the  lower  end  of  the  apartment, 
struggling  with  anger  and  antipathy.  Villon  surrepti- 
tiously refilled  his  cup,  and  settled  himself  more  comfort- 
ably in  the  chair,  crossing  his  knees  and  leaning  his  head 
upon  one  hand  and  the  elbow  against  the  back  of  the 
chair.  He  was  now  replete  and  warm,  and  he  was  in  no- 
wise frightened  for  his  host,  having  gauged  him  as  justly 
as  was  possible  between  two  such  different  characters. 


272  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

The  night  was  far  spent,  and  in  a  very  comfortable  fashion 
after  all;  and  he  felt  morally  certain  of  a  safe  departure 
on  the  morrow. 

"Tell  me  one  thing,"  said  the  old  man,  pausing  in  his 
walk.  "Are  you  really  a  thief?" 

"I  claim  the  sacred  rights  of  hospitality,"  returned  the 
poet.  "My  lord,  I  am." 

"You  are  very  young,"  the  knight  continued. 

"I  should  never  have  been  so  old,"  replied  Villon, 
showing  his  fingers,  "if  I  had  not  helped  myself  with 
these  ten  talents.  They  have  been  my  nursing  mothers 
and  my  nursing  fathers." 

"You  may  still  repent  and  change." 

"I  repent  daily, ' '  said  the  poet.  '  'There  are  few  people 
more  given  to  repentance  than  poor  Francis.  As  for 
change,  let  somebody  change  my  circumstances.  A  man 
must  continue  to  eat,  if  it  were  only  that  he  may  continue 
to  repent." 

"The  change  must  begin  in  the  heart,"  returned  the 
old  man  solemnly. 

"My  dear  lord,"  answered  Villon,  "do  you  really  fancy 
that  I  steal  for  pleasure?  I  hate  stealing,  like  any  other 
piece  of  work  or  of  danger.  My  teeth  chatter  when  I  see 
a  gallows.  But  I  must  eat,  I  must  drink,  I  must  mix  in 
society  of  some  sort.  What  the  devil!  Man  is  not  a 
solitary  animal — Cui  Deus  fseminam  tradit.  Make  me 
king's  pantler — make  me  abbot  of  St.  Denis;  make  me 
bailly  of  the  Patatrac;  and  then  I  shall  be  changed  indeed. 
But  as  long  as  you  leave  me  the  poor  scholar  Francis 
Villon,  without  a  farthing,  why,  of  course,  I  remain  the 
same." 

"The  grace  of  God  is  all-powerful." 

"I  should  be  a  heretic  to  question  it,"  said  Francis. 
"It  has  made  you  lord  of  Brisetout  and  bailly  of  the 


A  LODGING  FOR  THE  NIGHT  273 

Patatrac;  it  has  given  me  nothing  but  the  quick  wits 
under  my  hat  and  these  ten  toes  upon  my  hands.  May  I 
help  myself  to  wine?  I  thank  you  respectfully.  By  God's 
grace,  you  have  a  very  superior  vintage." 

The  lord  of  Brisetout  walked  to  and  fro  with  his  hands 
behind  his  back.  Perhaps  he  was  not  yet  quite  settled  in 
his  mind  about  the  parallel  between  thieves  and  soldiers; 
perhaps  Villon  had  interested  him  by  some  cross-thread 
of  sympathy;  perhaps  his  wits  were  simply  muddled  by  so 
much  unfamiliar  reasoning;  but  whatever  the  cause,  he 
somehow  yearned  to  convert  the  young  man  to  a  better 
way  of  thinking,  and  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to 
drive  him  forth  again  into  the  street. 

"There  is  something  more  than  I  can  understand  in 
this,"  he  said  at  length.  "Your  mouth  is  full  of  subtle- 
ties, and  the  devil  has  led  you  very  far  astray;  but  the 
devil  is  only  a  very  weak  spirit  before  God's  truth,  and 
all  his  subtleties  vanish  at  a  word  of  true  honor,  like  dark- 
ness at  morning.  Listen  to  me  once  more.  I  learned 
long  ago  that  a  gentleman  should  live  chivalrously  and 
lovingly  to  God,  and  the  king,  and  his  lady;  and  though 
I  have  seen  many  strange  things  done,  I  have  still  striven 
to  command  my  ways  upon  that  rule.  It  is  not  only 
written  in  all  noble  histories,  but  in  every  man's  heart  if 
he  will  take  care  to  read.  You  speak  of  food  and  wine, 
and  I  know  very  well  that  hunger  is  a  difficult  trial  to 
endure;  but  you  do  not  speak  of  other  wants;  you  say 
nothing  of  honor,  of  faith  to  God  and  other  men,  of 
courtesy,  of  love  without  reproach.  It  may  be  that  I  am 
not  very  wise — and  yet  I  think  I  am — but  you  seem  to  me 
like  one  who  has  lost  his  way  and  made  a  great  error  in 
life.  You  are  attending  to  the  little  wants,  and  you  have 
totally  forgotten  the  great  and  only  real  ones,  like  a  man 
who  should  be  doctoring  toothache  on  the  Judgment  Day. 


274  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

For  such  things  as  honor  and  love  and  faith  are  not  only 
nobler  than  food  and  drink,  but  indeed  I  think  we  desire 
them  more,  and  suffer  more  sharply  for  their  absence.  I 
speak  to  you  as  I  think  you  will  most  easily  understand 
me.  Are  you  not,  while  careful  to  fill  your  belly,  disre- 
garding another  appetite  in  your  heart,  which  spoils  the 
pleasure  of  your  life  and  keeps  you  continually  wretched?" 

Villon  was  sensibly  nettled  under  all  this  sermonizing. 

"You  think  I  have  no  sense  of  honor!"  he  cried.  "I'm 
poor  enough,  God  knows!  It's  hard  to  see  rich  people 
with  their  gloves,  and  you  blowing  in  your  hands.  An 
empty  belly  is  a  bitter  thing,  although  you  speak  so  lightly 
of  it.  If  you  had  had  as  many  as  I,  perhaps  you  would 
change  your  tune.  Any  way  I'm  a  thief — make  the  most 
of  that — but  I'm  not  a  devil  from  hell,  God  strike  me 
dead.  I  would  have  you  to  know  I've  an  honor  of  my 
own,  as  good  as  yours,  though  I  don't  prate  about  it  all 
day  long,  as  if  it  was  a  God's  miracle  to  have  any.  It 
seems  quite  natural  to  me;  I  keep  it  in  its  box  till  its 
wanted.  Why  now,  look  you  here,  how  long  have  I  been 
in  this  room  with  you?  Did  you  not  tell  me  you  were 
alone  in  the  house?  Look  at  your  gold  plate!  You're 
strong,  if  you  like,  but  you're  old  and  unarmed,  and  I 
have  my  knife.  What  did  I  want  but  a  jerk  of  the  elbow 
and  here  would  have  been  you  with  the  cold  steel  in  your 
bowels,  and  there  would  have  been  me,  linking  in  the 
streets,  with  an  armful  of  golden  cups!  Did  you  suppose 
I  hadn't  wit  enough  to  see  that?  And  I  scorned  the 
action.  There  are  your  damned  goblets,  as  safe  as  in  a 
church;  there  are  you,  with  your  heart  ticking  as  good  as 
new;  and  here  am  I,  ready  to  go  out  again  as  poor  as  I 
came  in,  with  my  one  white  that  you  threw  in  my  teeth ! 
And  you  think  I  have  no  sense  of  honor — God  strike  me 
dead!" 


A  LODGING  FOR  THE  NIGHT  275 

The  old  man  stretched  out  his  right  arm.  "I  will  tell 
you  what  you  are,"  he  said.  "You  are  a  rogue,  my  man, 
an  impudent  and  black-hearted  rogue  and  vagabond.  I 
have  passed  an  hour  with  you.  Oh!  believe  me,  I  feel 
myself  disgraced !  And  you  have  eaten  and  drunk  at  my 
table.  But  now  I  am  sick  at  your  presence;  the  day  has 
come,  and  the  night-bird  should  be  off  to  his  roost.  Will 
you  go  before,  or  after?" 

"Which  you  please,"  returned  the  poet,  rising.  "I 
believe  you  to  be  strictly  honorable."  He  thoughtfully 
emptied  his  cup.  "I  wish  I  could  add  you  were  intelli- 
gent, ' '  he  went  on,  knocking  on  his  head  with  his  knuckles. 
"Age!  age!  the  brains  stiff  and  rheumatic." 

The  old  man  preceded  him  from  a  point  of  self-respect ; 
Villon  followed,  whistling,  with  his  thumbs  in  his  girdle. 

"God  pity  you,"  said  the  lord  of  Brisetout  at  the  door. 

"Good-bye,  papa,"  returned  Villon  with  a  yawn. 
"Many  thanks  for  the  cold  mutton." 

The  door  closed  behind  him.  The  dawn  was  breaking 
over  the  white  roofs.  A  chill,  uncomfortable  morning 
ushered  in  the  day.  Villon  stood  and  heartily  stretched 
himself  in  the  middle  of  the  road. 

"A  very  dull  old  gentleman,"  he  thought.  "I  wonder 
what  his  goblets  may  be  worth. ' ' 


THE  SIRE  DE  MALETROIT'S  DOOR 

DENIS  DE  BEAULJEU  was  not  yet  two-and-twenty,  but  he 
counted  himself  a  grown  man,  and  a  very  accomplished 
cavalier  into  the  bargain.  Lads  were  early  formed  in  that 
rough,  warfaring  epoch;  and  when  one  has  been  in  a 
pitched  battle  and  a  dozen  raids,  has  killed  one's  man  in 
an  honorable  fashion,  and  knows  a  thing  or  two  of  strategy 
and  mankind,  a  certain  swagger  in  the  gait  is  surely  to 
be  pardoned.  He  had  put  up  his  horse  with  due  care,  and 
supped  with  due  deliberation;  and  then,  in  a  very  agree- 
able frame  of  mind,  went  out  to  pay  a  visit  in  the  gray  of 
the  evening.  It  was  not  a  very  wise  proceeding  on  the 
young  man's  part.  He  would  have  done  better  to  remain 
beside  the  fire  or  go  decently  to  bed.  For  the  town  was 
full  of  the  troops  of  Burgundy  and  England  under  a  mixed 
command;  and  though  Denis  was  there  on  safe-conduct, 
his  safe-conduct  was  like  to  serve  him  little  on  a  chance 
encounter. 

It  was  September,  1429 ;  the  weather  had  fallen  sharp ; 
a  flighty  piping  wind,  laden  with  showers,  beat  about  the 
township;  and  the  dead  leaves  ran  riot  along  the  streets. 
Here  and  there  a  window  was  already  lighted  up;  and  the 
noise  of  men-at-arms  making  merry  over  supper  within, 
came  forth  in  fits  and  was  swallowed  up  and  carried  away 
by  the  wind.  The  night  fell  swiftly;  the  flag  of  England, 
fluttering  on  the  spire-top,  grew  ever  fainter  and  fainter 
against  the  flying  clouds — a  black  speck  like  a  swallow  in 
the  tumultuous,  leaden  chaos  of  the  sky.  As  the  night 


THE  SIRE  DE  MALETROIT'S  DOOR  277 

fell  the  wind  rose,  and  began  to  hoot  under  archways  and 
roar  amid  the  tree-tops  in  the  valley  below  the  town. 

Denis  de  Beaulieu  walked  fast  and  was  soon  knocking 
at  his  friend's  door;  but  though  he  promised  himself  to 
stay  only  a  little  while  and  make  an  early  return,  his 
welcome  was  so  pleasant,  and  he  found  so  much  to  delay 
him,  that  it  was  already  long  past  midnight  before  he 
said  good-bye  upon  the  threshold.  The  wind  had  fallen 
again  in  the  meanwhile;  the  night  was  as  black  as  the 
grave;  not  a  star,  nor  a  glimmer  of  moonshine,  slipped 
through  the  canopy  of  cloud.  Denis  was  ill-acquainted 
with  the  intricate  lanes  of  Chateau  Landon;  even  by  day- 
light he  had  found  some  trouble  in  picking  his  way;  and 
in  this  absolute  darkness  he  soon  lost  it  altogether.  He 
was  certain  of  one  thing  only — to  keep  mounting  the  hill; 
for  his  friend's  house  lay  at  the  lower  end,  or  tail,  of 
Chateau  Landon,  while  the  inn  was  up  at  the  head,  under 
the  great  church  spire.  With  this  clue  to  go  upon  he 
stumbled  and  groped  forward,  now  breathing  more  freely 
in  open  places  where  there  was  a  good  slice  of  sky  over- 
head, now  feeling  along  the  wall  in  stifling  closes.  It  is 
an  eerie  and  mysterious  position  to  be  thus  submerged  in 
opaque  blackness  in  an  almost  unknown  town.  The  silence 
is  terrifying  in  its  possibilities.  The  touch  of  cold  win- 
dow bars  to  the  exploring  hand  startles  the  man  like  the 
touch  of  a  toad;  the  inequalities  of  the  pavement  shake 
his  heart  into  his  mouth;  a  piece  of  denser  darkness 
threatens  an  ambuscade  or  a  chasm  In  the  pathway;  and 
where  the  air  is  brighter,  the  houses  put  on  strange  and 
bewildering  appearances,  as  if  to  lead  him  farther  from 
his  way.  For  Denis,  who  had  to  regain  his  inn  without 
attracting  notice,  there  was  real  danger  as  well  as  mere 
discomfort  in  the  walk;  and  he  went  warily  and  boldly  at 
once,  and  at  every  corner  paused  to  make  an  observation. 


278  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

He  had  been  for  some  time  threading  a  lane  so  narrow 
that  he  could  touch  a  wall  with  either  hand  when  it  began 
to  open  out  and  go  sharply  downward.  Plainly  this  lay  no 
longer  in  the  direction  of  his  inn;  but  the  hope  of  a  little 
more  light  tempted  him  forward  to  reconnoitre.  The 
lane  ended  in  a  terrace  with  a  bartizan  wall,  which  gave 
an  outlook  between  high  houses,  as  out  of  an  embrasure, 
into  the  valley  lying  dark  and  formless  several  hundred 
feet  below.  Denis  looked  down,  and  could  discern  a  few 
tree-tops  waving  and  a  single  speck  of  brightness  where 
the  river  ran  across  a  weir.  The  weather  was  clearing 
up,  and  the  sky  had  lightened,  so  as  to  show  the  outline 
of  the  heavier  clouds  and  the  dark  margin  of  the  hills. 
By  the  uncertain  glimmer,  the  house  on  his  left  hand 
should  be  a  place  of  some  pretensions;  it  was  surmounted 
by  several  pinnacles  and  turret- tops;  the  round  stern  of  a 
chapel,  with  a  fringe  of  flying  buttresses,  projected  boldly 
from  the  main  block;  and  the  door  was  sheltered  under  a 
deep  porch  carved  with  figures  and  overhung  by  two  long 
gargoyles.  The  windows  of  the  chapel  gleamed  through 
their  intricate  tracery  with  a  light  as  of  many  tapers,  and 
threw  out  the  buttresses  and  the  peaked  roof  in  a  more 
intense  blackness  against  the  sky.  It  was  plainly  the 
hotel  of  some  great  family  of  the  neighborhood ;  and  as  it 
reminded  Denis  of  a  town  house  of  his  own  at  Bourges, 
he  stood  for  some  time  gazing  up  at  it  and  mentally 
gauging  the  skill  of  the  architects  and  the  consideration 
of  the  two  families. 

There  seemed  to  be  no  issue  to  the  terrace  but  the  lane 
by  which  he  had  reached  it;  he  could  only  retrace  his 
steps,  but  he  had  gained  some  notion  of  his  whereabouts, 
and  hoped  by  this  means  to  hit  the  main  thoroughfare  and 
speedily  regain  the  inn.  He  was  reckoning  without  that 
chapter  of  accidents  which  was  to  make  this  night  memor- 


THE  SIRE  DE  MALETROIT'S  DOOR  279 

able  above  all  others  in  his  career;  for  he  had  not  gone 
back  above  a  hundred  yards  before  he  saw  a  light  coming 
to  meet  him,  and  heard  loud  voices  speaking  together  in 
the  echoing  narrows  of  the  lane.  It  was  a  party  of  men- 
at-arms  going  the  night  round  with  torches.  Denis 
assured  himself  that  they  had  all  been  making  free  with 
the  wine-bowl,  and  were  in  no  mood  to  be  particular 
about  safe-conducts  or  the  niceties  of  chivalrous  war.  It 
was  as  like  as  not  that  they  would  kill  him  like  a  dog 
and  leave  him  where  he  fell.  The  situation  was  inspirit- 
ing but  nervous.  Their  own  torches  would  conceal  him 
from  sight,  he  reflected ;  and  he  hoped  that  they  would 
drown  the  noise  of  his  footsteps  with  their  own  empty 
voices.  If  he  were  but  fleet  and  silent,  he  might  evade 
their  notice  altogether. 

Unfortunately,  as  he  turned  to  beat  a  retreat,  his  foot 
rolled  upon  a  pebble;  he  fell  against  the  wall  with  an 
ejaculation,  and  his  sword  rang  loudly  on  the  stones. 
Two  or  three  voices  demanded  who  went  there — some  in 
French,  some  in  English;  but  Denis  made  no  reply,  and 
ran  the  faster  down  the  lane.  Once  upon  the  terrace,  he 
paused  to  look  back.  They  still  kept  calling  after  him, 
and  just  then  began  to  double  the  pace  in  pursuit,  with  a 
considerable  clank  of  armor,  and  great  tossing  of  the 
torchlight  to  and  fro  in  the  narrow  jaws  of  the  passage. 

Denis  cast  a  look  around  and  darted  into  the  porch. 
There  he  might  escape  observation,  or — if  that  were  too 
much  to  expect — was  in  a  capital  posture  whether  for 
parley  or  defence.  So  thinking,  he  drew  his  sword  and 
tried  to  set  his  back  against  the  door.  To  his  surprise, 
it  yielded  behind  his  weight;  and  though  he  turned  in  a 
moment,  continued  to  swing  back  on  oiled  and  noiseless 
hinges,  until  it  stood  wide  open  on  a  black  interior. 
When  things  fall  out  opportunely  for  the  person  concerned, 


280  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

he  is  not  apt  to  be  critical  about  the  how  or  why,  his  own 
immediate  personal  convenience  seeming  a  sufficient  rea- 
son for  the  strangest  oddities  and  revolutions  in  our 
sublunary  things;  and  so  Denis,  without  a  moment's  hesi- 
tation, stepped  within  and  partly  closed  the  door  behind 
him  to  conceal  his  place  of  refuge.  Nothing  was  further 
from  his  thoughts  than  to  close  it  altogether ;  but  for  some 
inexplicable  reason — perhaps  by  a  spring  or  a  weight — 
the  ponderous  mass  of  oak  whipped  itself  out  of  his  fingers 
and  clanked  to,  with  a  formidable  rumble  and  a  noise 
like  the  falling  of  an  automatic  bar. 

The  round,  at  that  very  moment,  debouched  upon  the 
terrace  and  proceeded  to  summon  him  with  shouts  and 
curses.  He  heard  them  ferreting  in  the  dark  corners; 
the  stock  of  a  lance  even  rattled  along  the  outer  surface 
of  the  door  behind  which  he  stood ;  but  these  gentlemen 
were  in  too  high  a  humor  to  be  long  delayed,  and  soon 
made  off  down  a-  corkscrew  pathway  which  had  escaped 
Denis's  observation,  and  passed  out  of  sight  and  hearing 
along  the  battlements  of  the  town. 

Denis  breathed  again.  He  gave  them  a  few  minutes' 
grace  for  fear  of  accidents,  and  then  groped  about  for 
some  means  of  opening  the  door  and  slipping  forth  again. 
The  inner  surface  was  quite  smooth,  not  a  handle,  not  a 
moulding,  not  a  projection  of  any  sort.  He  got  his  finger- 
nails round  the  edges  and  pulled,  but  the  mass  was  im- 
movable. He  shook  it,  it  was  as  firm  as  a  rock.  Denis 
de  Beaulieu  frowned  and  gave  vent  to  a  little  noiseless 
whistle.  What  ailed  the  door?  he  wondered.  Why  was 
it  open?  How  came  it  to  shut  so  easily  and  so  effectually 
after  him?  There  was  something  obscure  and  underhand 
about  all  this,  that  was  little  to  the  young  man's  fancy. 
It  looked  like  a  snare,  and  yet  who  could  suppose  a  snare 
in  such  a  quiet  by-street  and  in  a  house  of  so  prosperous 


THE  SIRE  DE  MALETROIT'S  DOOR  281 

and  even  noble  an  exterior?  And  yet — snare  or  no  snare, 
intentionally  or  unintentionally — here  he  was,  prettily 
trapped;  and  for  the  life  of  him  he  could  see  no  way  out 
of  it  again.  The  darkness  began  to  weigh  upon  him.  He 
gave  ear;  all  was  silent  without,  but  within  and  close  by 
he  seemed  to  catch  a  faint  sighing,  a  faint  sobbing  rustle, 
a  little  stealthy  creak — as  though  many  persons  were  at 
his  side,  holding  themselves  quite  still,  and  governing 
even  their  respiration  with  the  extreme  of  slyness.  The 
idea  went  to  his  vitals  with  a  shock,  and  he  faced  about 
suddenly  as  if  to  defend  his  life.  Then,  for  the  first 
time,  he  became  aware  of  a  light  about  the  level  of  his 
eyes  and  at  some  distance  in  the  interior  of  the  house — a 
vertical  thread  of  light,  widening  towards  the  bottom, 
such  as  might  escape  between  two  wings  of  arras  over  a 
doorway.  To  see  anything  was  a  relief  to  Denis;  it  was 
like  a  piece  of  solid  ground  to  a  man  laboring  in  a  morass; 
his  mind  seized  upon  it  with  avidity;  and  he  stood  staring 
at  it  and  trying  to  piece  together  some  logical  conception 
of  his  surroundings.  Plainly  there  was  a  flight  of  steps 
ascending  from  his  own  level  to  that  of  this  illuminated 
doorway ;  and  indeed  he  thought  he  could  make  out  another 
thread  of  light,  as  fine  as  a  needle  and  as  faint  as  phos- 
phorescence, which  might  very  well  be  reflected  along  the 
polished  wood  of  a  handrail.  Since  he  had  begun  to  sus- 
pect that  he  was  not  alone,  his  heart  had  continued  to  beat 
with  smothering  violence,  and  an  intolerable  desire  for 
action  of  any  sort  had  possessed  itself  of  his  spirit.  He 
was  in  deadly  peril,  he  believed.  What  could  be  more 
natural  than  to  mount  the  staircase,  lift  the  curtain,  and 
confront  his  difficulty  at  once?  At  least  he  would  be 
dealing  with  something  tangible;  at  least  he  would  be  no 
longer  in  the  dark.  He  stepped  slowly  forward  with  out- 
stretched hands,  until  his  foot  struck  the  bottom  step; 


282  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

then  he  rapidly  scaled  the  stairs,  stood  for  a  moment  to 
compose  his  expression,  lifted  the  arras  and  went  in. 

He  found  himself  in  a  large  apartment  of  polished 
stone.  There  were  three  doors;  one  on  each  of  three 
sides;  all  similarly  curtained  with  tapestry.  The  fourth 
side  was  occupied  by  two  large  windows  and  a  great  stone 
chimney-piece,  carved  with  the  arms  of  the  Maletroits. 
Denis  recognized  the  bearings,  and  was  gratified  to  find 
himself  in  such  good  hands.  The  room  was  strongly 
illuminated;  but  it  contained  little  furniture  except  a 
heavy  table  and  a  chair  or  two,  the  hearth  was  innocent 
of  fire,  and  the  pavement  was  but  sparsely  strewn  with 
rushes  clearly  many  days  old. 

On  a  high  chair  beside  the'chimney,  and  directly  facing 
Denis  as  he  entered,  sat  a  little  old  gentleman  in  a  fur 
tippet.  He  sat  with  his  legs  crossed  and  his  hands  folded, 
and  a  cup  of  spiced  wine  stood  by  his  elbow  on  a  bracket 
on  the  wall.  His  countenance  had  a  strongly  masculine 
cast;  not  properly  human,  but  such  as  we  see  in  the  bull, 
the  goat,  or  the  domestic  boar;  something  equivocal  and 
wheedling,  something  greedy,  brutal,  and  dangerous. 
The  upper  lip  was  inordinately  full,  as  though  swollen  by 
a  blow  or  a  toothache ;  and  the  smile,  the  peaked  eye- 
brows, and  the  small,  strong  eyes  were  quaintly  and 
almost  comically  evil  in  expression.  Beautiful  white  hair 
hung  straight  all  round  his  head,  like  a  saint's,  and  fell 
in  a  single  curl  upon  the  tippet.  His  beard  and  mous- 
tache were  the  pink  of  venerable  sweetness.  Age,  proba- 
bly in  consequence  of  inordinate  precautions,  had  left  no 
mark  upon  his  hands;  and  the  Mai etroit  hand  was  famous. 
It  would  be  difficult  to  imagine  anything  at  once  so  fleshy 
and  so  delicate  in  design;  the  taper,  sensual  fingers  were 
like  those  of  one  of  Leonardo's  women;  the  fork  of  the 
thumb  made  a  dimpled  protuberance  when  closed;  the 


THE  SIRE  DE  MALETROIT'S  DOOR  283 

nails  were  perfectly  shaped,  and  of  a  dead,  surprising 
whiteness.  It  rendered  his  aspect  tenfold  more  redoubt- 
able, that  a  man  with  hands  like  these  should  keep  them 
devoutly  folded  like  a  virgin  martyr — that  a  man  with 
so  intent  and  startling  an  expression  of  face  should  sit 
patiently  on  his  seat  and  contemplate  people  with  an  un- 
winking stare,  like  a  god,  or  a  god's  statue.  His  quies- 
cence seemed  ironical  and  treacherous,  it  fitted  so  poorly 
with  his  looks. 

Such  was  Alain,  Sire  de  Maletroit. 

Denis  and  he  looked  silently  at  each  other  for  a  second 
or  two. 

"Pray  step  in,"  said  the  Sire  de  Maletroit.  "I  have 
been  expecting  you  all  the  evening." 

He  had  not  risen  but  he  accompanied  his  words  with  a 
smile  and  a  slight  but  courteous  inclination  of  the  head. 
Partly  from  the  smile,  partly  from  the  strange  musical 
murmur  with  which  the  Sire  prefaced  his  observation, 
Denis  felt  a  strong  shudder  of  disgust  go  through  his 
marrow.  And  what  with  disgust  and  honest  confusion  of 
mind,  he  could  scarcely  get  words  together  in  reply. 

"I  fear,"  he  said,  "that  this  is  a  double  accident.  I 
am  not  the  person  you  suppose  me.  It  seems  you  were 
looking  for  a  visit;  but  for  my  part,  nothing  was  further 
from  my  thoughts — nothing  could  be  more  contrary  to 
my  wishes — than  this  intrusion." 

"Well,  well,"  replied  the  old  gentleman  indulgently, 
"here  you  are,  which  is  the  main  point.  Seat  yourself, 
my  friend,  and  put  yourself  entirely  at  your  ease.  We 
shall  arrange  our  little  affairs  presently." 

Denis  perceived  that  the  matter  was  still  complicated 
with  some  misconception,  and  he  hastened  to  continue  his 
explanations. 

"Your  door  .  .  .  ."  he  began. 


284  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"About  my  door?"  asked  the  other  raising  his  peaked 
eyebrows.  "A  little  piece  of  ingenuity."  And  he  shrugged 
his  shoulders.  "A  hospitable  fancy!  By  your  own  ac- 
count, you  were  not  desirous  of  making  my  acquaintance. 
We  old  people  look  for  such  reluctance  now  and  then; 
when  it  touches  our  honor,  we  cast  about  until  we  find 
some  way  of  overcoming  it.  You  arrive  uninvited,  but 
believe  me,  very  welcome." 

"You  persist  in  error,  sir,"  said  Denis.  "There  can 
be  no  question  between  you  and  me.  I  am  a  stranger  in 
this  countryside.  My  name  is  Denis,  damoiseau  de  Beau- 
lieu.  If  you  see  me  in  your  house,  it  is  only " 

"My  young  friend,"  interrupted  the  other,  "you  will 
permit  me  to  have  my  own  ideas  on  that  subject.  They 
probably  differ  from  yours  at  the  present  moment,"  he 
added  with  a  leer,  *  'but  time  will  show  which  of  us  is  in 
the  right." 

Denis  was  convinced  he  had  to  do  with  a  lunatic.  He 
seated  himself  with  a  shrug,  content  to  wait  the  upshot ; 
and  a  pause  ensued,  during  which  he  thought  he  could 
distinguish  a  hurried  gabbling  as  of  prayer  from  behind 
the  arras  immediately  opposite  him.  Sometimes  there 
seemed  to  be  but  one  person  engaged,  sometimes  two; 
and  the  vehemence  of  the  voice,  low  as  it  was,  seemed  to 
indicate  either  great  haste  or  an  agony  of  spirit.  It 
occurred  to  him  that  this  piece  of  tapestry  covered  the 
entrance  to  the  chapel  he  had  noticed  from  without. 

The  old  gentleman  meanwhile  surveyed  Denis  from 
head  to  foot  with  a  smile,  and  from  time  to  time  emitted 
little  noises  like  a  bird  or  a  mouse,  which  seemed  to  indi- 
cate a  high  degree  of  satisfaction.  This  state  of  matters 
became  rapidly  insupportable;  and  Denis,  to  put  an  end 
to  it,  remarked  politely  that  the  wind  had  gone  down. 

The  old  gentleman  fell  into  a  fit  of  silent  laughter,  so 


THE  SIRE  DE  MALETROIT'S  DOOR  285 

prolonged  and  violent  that  he  became  quite  red  in  the 
face.  Denis  got  upon  his  feet  at  once,  and  put  on  his  hat 
with  a  flourish. 

"Sir,"  he  said,  "if  you  are  in  your  wits,  you  have 
affronted  me  grossly.  If  you  are  out  of  them,  I  flatter 
myself  I  can  find  better  employment  for  my  brains  than 
to  talk  with  lunatics.  My  conscience  is  clear;  you  have 
made  a  fool  of  me  from  the  first  moment;  you  have  re- 
fused to  hear  my  explanations;  and  now  there  is  no  power 
under  God  will  make  me  stay  here  any  longer;  and  if  I 
cannot  make  my  way  out  in  a  more  decent  fashion,  I  will 
hack  your  door  in  pieces  with  my  sword." 

The  Sire  de  Maletroit  raised  his  right  hand  and  wagged 
it  at  Denis  with  the  fore  and  little  fingers  extended. 

"My  dear  nephew,"  he  said,  "sit  down." 

"Nephew!"  retorted  Denis,  "you  lie  in  your  throat;" 
and  he  snapped  his  fingers  in  his  face. 

"Sit  down,  you  rogue!"  cried  the  old  gentleman,  in  a 
sudden,  harsh  voice,  like  the  barking  of  a  dog.  "Do  you 
fancy,"  he  went  on,  "that  when  I  had  made  my  little 
contrivance  for  the  door  I  had  stopped  short  with  that? 
If  you  prefer  to  be  bound  hand  and  foot  till  your  bones 
ache,  rise  and  try  to  go  away.  If  you  choose  to  remain  a 
a  free  young  buck,  agreeably  conversing  with  an  old 
gentleman — why,  sit  where  you  are  in  peace,  and  God  .be 
with  you." 

"Do  you  mean  I  am  a  prisoner?"  demanded  Denis. 

"I  state  the  facts,"  replied  the  other.  "I would  rather 
leave  the  conclusion  to  yourself." 

Denis  sat  down  again.  Externally  he  managed  to  keep 
pretty  calm,  but  within,  he  was  now  boiling  with  anger, 
now  chilled  with  apprehension.  He  no  longer  felt  con- 
vinced that  he  was  dealing  with  a  madman.  And  if  the 
old  gentleman  was  sane,  what,  in  God's  name,  had  he  to 


286  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

look  for?  What  absurd  or  tragical  adventure  had  befallen 
him?  What  countenance  was  he  to  assume? 

While  he  was  thus  unpleasantly  reflecting,  the  arras 
that  overhung  the  chapel  door  was  raised,  and  a  tall  priest 
in  his  robes  came  forth  and,  giving  a  long,  keen  stare 
at  Denis,  said  something  in  an  undertone  to  Sire  de 
Maletroit. 

"She  is  in  a  better  frame  of  spirit?"  asked  the  latter. 

"She  is  more  resigned,  messire,"  replied  the  priest. 

"Now  the  Lord  help  her,  she  is  hard  to  please!"  sneered 
the  old  gentleman.  '  'A  likely  stripling — not  ill-born — and 
of  her  own  choosing,  too?  Why,  what  more  would  the 
jade  have?" 

"The  situation  is  not  usual  for  a  young  damsel,"  said 
the  other,  "and  somewhat  trying  to  her  blushes." 

"She  should  have  thought  of  that  before  she  began  the 
dance?  It  was  none  of  my  choosing,  God  knows  that;  but 
since  she  is  in  it,  by  our  lady,  she  shall  carry  it  to  the  end. ' ' 
And  then  addressing  Denis,  "Monsieur  de  Beaulieu,"  he 
asked,  "may  I  present  you  to  my  niece?  She  has  been 
waiting  your  arrival,  I  may  say,  with  even  greater  im- 
patience than  myself." 

Denis  had  resigned  himself  with  a  good  grace — all  he 
desired  was  to  know  the  worst  of  it  as  speedily  as  possi- 
ble; so  he  rose  at  once,  and  bowed  in  acquiescence.  The 
Sire  de  Maletroit  followed  his  example  and  limped,  with 
the  assistance  of  the  chaplain's  arm,  towards  the  chapel- 
door.  The  priest  pulled  aside  the  arras,  and  all  three 
entered.  The  building  had  considerable  architectural 
pretensions.  A  light  groining  sprang  from  six  stout 
columns,  and  hung  down  in  two  rich  pendants  from  the 
centre  of  the  vault.  The  place  terminated  behind  the 
altar  in  a  round  end,  embossed  and  honeycombed  with  a 
superfluity  of  ornament  in  relief,  and  pierced  by  many 


THE  SIRE  DE  MALETROIT'S  DOOR  287 

little  windows  shaped  like  stars,  trefoils,  or  wheels.  These 
windows  were  imperfectly  glazed,  so  that  the  night  air 
circulated  freely  in  the  chapel.  The  tapers,  of  which  there 
must  have  been  half  a  hundred  burning  on  the  altar,  were 
unmercifully  blown  about;  and  the  light  went  through 
many  different  phases  of  brilliancy  and  semi-eclipse.  On 
the  steps  in  front  of  the  altar  knelt  a  young  girl  richly 
attired  as  a  bride.  A  chill  settled  over  Denis  as  he  ob- 
served her  costume;  he  fought  with  desperate  energy 
against  the  conclusion  that  was  being  thrust  upon  his 
mind ;  it  could  not — it  should  not — be  as  he  feared. 

"Blanche,"  said  the  Sire,  in  his  most  flute-like  tones, 
"I  have  brought  a  friend  to  see  you,  my  little  girl;  turn 
round  and  give  him  your  pretty  hand.  It  is  good  to  be 
devout;  but  it  is  necessary  to  be  polite,  my  niece." 

The  girl  rose  to  her  feet  and  turned  toward  the  new 
comers.  She  moved  all  of  a  piece;  Land  shame  and  ex- 
haustion were  expressed  in  every  line  of  her  fresh  young 
body ;  and  she  held  her  head  down  and  kept  her  eyes  upon 
the  pavement,  as  she  came  slowly  forward.  In  the  course 
of  her  advance,  her  eyes  fell  upon  Denis  de  Beaulieu's 
feet — feet  of  which  he  was  justly  vain,  be  it  remarked, 
and  wore  in  the  most  elegant  accoutrement  even  while 
traveling.  She  paused — started,  as  if  his  yellow  boots 
had  conveyed  some  shocking  meaning — and  glanced  sud- 
denly up  into  the  wearer's  countenance.  Their  eyes  met; 
shame  gave  place  to  horror  and  terror  in  her  looks;  the 
blood  left  her  lips;  with  a  piercing  scream  she  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands  and  sank  upon  the  chapel  floor. 

"That  is  not  the  man!"  she  cried.  "My  uncle,  that  is 
not  the  man ! ' ' 

The  Sire  de  Maletroit  chirped  agreeably.  "Of  course 
not,"  he  said,  "I  expected  as  much.  It  was  so  unfortu- 
nate you  could  not  remember  his  name. ' ' 


288  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"Indeed,"  she  cried,  "indeed,  I  have  never  seen  this 
person  till  this  moment — I  have  never  so  much  as  set  eyes 
upon  him — I  never  wish  to  see  him  again.  Sir,"  she 
said,  turning  to  Denis,  "if  you  are  a  gentleman,  you  will 
bear  me  out.  Have  I  ever  seen  you — have  you  ever  seen 
me — before  this  accursed  hour?" 

"To  speak  for  myself,  I  have  never  had  that  pleasure," 
answered  the  young  man.  "This  is  the  first  time,  mes- 
sire,  that  I  have  met  with  your  engaging  niece. ' ' 

The  old  gentleman  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  am  distressed  to  hear  it,"  he  said.  "But  it  is  never 
too  late  to  begin.  I  had  little  more  acquaintance  with 
my  own  late  lady  ere  I  married  her;  which  proves,"  he 
added,  with  a  grimace,  "that  these  impromptu  marriages 
may  often  produce  an  excellent  understanding  in  the  long 
run.  As  the  bridegroom  is  to  have  a  voice  in  the  matter, 
I  will  give  him  two  hours  to  make  up  for  lost  time  before 
we  proceed  with  the  ceremony."  And  he  turned  toward 
the  door,  followed  by  the  clergyman. 

The  girl  was  on  her  feet  in  a  moment.  "My  uncle,  you 
cannot  be  in  earnest,"  she  said.  "I  declare  before  God  I 
will  stab  myself  rather  than  be  forced  on  that  young  man. 
The  heart  rises  at  it;  God  forbids  such  marriages;  you 
dishonor  your  white  hair.  Oh,  my  uncle,  pity  me!  There 
is  not  a  woman  in  all  the  world  but  would  prefer  death  to 
such  a  nuptial.  Is  it  possible,"  she  added,  faltering — "is 
it  possible  that  you  do  not  believe  me — that  you  still 
think  this' ' — and  she  pointed  at  Denis  with  a  tremor  of 
anger  and  contempt — "that  you  still  think  this  to  be  the 
man?" 

"Frankly,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  pausing  on  the 
threshold,  "I  do.  But  let  me  explain  to  you  once  for  all, 
Blanche  de  Maletroit,  my  way  of  thinking  about  this 
affair.  When  you  took  it  into  your  head  to  dishonor  my 


THE  SIRE  DE  MALETROIT'S  DOOR  289 

family  and  the  name  that  I  have  borne,  in  peace  and  war, 
for  more  than  three-score  years,  you  forfeited,  not  only 
the  right  to  question  my  designs,  but  that  of  looking  me 
in  the  face.  If  your  father  had  been  alive,  [he  would  have 
spat  on  you  and  turned  you  out  of  doors.  His  was  the 
hand  of  iron.  You  may  bless  your  God  you  have  only  to 
deal  with  the  hand  of  velvet,  mademoiselle.  It  was  my 
duty  to  get  you  married  without  delay.  Out  of  pure 
good-will,  I  have  tried  to  find  your  own  gallant  for  you. 
And  I  believe  I  have  succeeded.  But  before  God  and  all 
the  holy  angels,  Blanche  de  Maletroit,  if  I  have  not,  I  care 
not  one  jack-straw.  So  let  me  recommend  you  to  be 
polite  to  our  young  friend;  for  upon  my  word,  your  next 
groom  may  be  less  appetizing." 

And  with  that  he  went  out,  with  the  chaplain  at  his 
heels;  and  the  arras  fell  behind  the  pair. 

The  girl  turned  upon  Denis  with  flashing  eyes. 

"And  what,  sir,"  she  demanded,  "may  be  the  meaning 
of  all  this?" 

"God  knows,"  returned  Denis,  gloomily.  "I  am  a 
prisoner  in  this  house,  which  seems  full  of  mad  people. 
More  I  know  not;  and  nothing  do  I  understand." 

"And  pray  how  came  you  here,"  she  asked. 

He  told  her  as  briefly  as  he  could.  "For  the  rest,"  he 
added,  "perhaps  you  will  follow  my  example,  and  tell  me 
the  answer  to  all  these  riddles,  and  what,  in  God's  name, 
is  like  to  be  the  end  of  it." 

She  stood  silent  for  a  little,  and  he  could  see  her  lips 
tremble  and  her  tearless  eyes  burn  with  a  feverish  lustre. 
Then  she  pressed  her  forehead  in  both  hands. 

"Alas,  how  my  head  aches!"  she  said  wearily — "to  say 
nothing  of  my  poor  heart!  But  it  is  due  to  you  to  know 
my  story,  unmaidenly  as  it  must  seem.  I  am  called 
Blanche  de  Maletroit;  I  have  been  without  father  or 


290  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

mother  for — oh !  for  as  long  as  I  can  recollect,  and  indeed 
I  have  been  most  unhappy  all  my  life.  Three  months  ago 
a  young  captain  began  to  stand  near  me  every  day  in 
church.  I  could  see  that  I  pleased  him;  I  am  much  to 
blame,  but  I  was  so  glad  that  anyone  should  love  me ;  and 
when  he  passed  me  a  letter,  I  took  it  home  with  me  and 
read  it  with  great  pleasure.  Since  that  time  he  has  writ- 
ten many.  He  was  so  anxious  to  speak  with  me,  poor 
fellow!  and  kept  asking  me  to  leave  the  door  open  some 
evening  that  we  might  have  two  words  upon  the  stair. 
For  he  knew  how  much  my  uncle  trusted  me."  She  gave 
something  like  a  sob  at  that,  and  it  was  a  moment  before 
she  could  go  on.  "My  uncle  is  a  hard  man,  but  he  is  very 
shrewd,"  she  said  at  last.  "He  has  performed  many 
feats  in  war,  and  was  a  great  person  at  court,  and  much 
trusted  by  Queen  Isabeau  in  old  days.  How  he  came  to 
suspect  me  I  cannot  tell;  but  it  is  hard  to  keep  anything 
from  his  knowledge;  and  this  morning,  as  we  came  from 
mass,  he  took  my  hand  into  his,  forced  it  open,  and  read 
my  little  billet,  walking  by  my  side  all  the  while.  When 
he  finished,  he  gave  it  back  to  me  with  great  politeness. 
It  contained  another  request  to  have  the  door  left  open; 
and  this  has  been  the  ruin  of  us  all.  My  uncle  kept  me 
strictly  in  my  room  until  evening,  and  then  ordered  me 
to  dress  myself  as  you  see  me — a  hard  mockery  for  a  young 
girl,  do  you  not  think  so?  I  suppose,  when  he  could  not 
prevail  with  me  to  tell  him  the  young  captain's  name,  he 
must  have  laid  a  trap  for  him:  into  which,  alas!  you  have 
fallen  in  the  anger  of  God.  I  looked  for  much  confusion; 
for  how  could  I  tell  whether  he  was  willing  to  take  me 
for  his  wife  on  these  sharp  terms?  He  might  have  been 
trifling  with  me  from  the  first;  or  I  might  have  made 
myself  too  cheap  in  his  eyes.  But  truly  I  had  not  looked 
for  such  a  shameful  punishment  as  this!  I  could  not 


THE  SIRE  DE  MALETROIT'S  DOOR  291 

think  that  God  would  let  a  girl  be  so  disgraced  before  a 
young  man.  And  now  I  tell  you  all;  and  I  can  scarcely 
hope  that  you  will  not  despise  me." 

Denis  made  her  a  respectful  inclination. 

"Madam,"  he  said,  "you  have  honored  me  by  your 
confidence.  It  remains  for  me  to  prove  that  I  am  not  un- 
worthy of  the  honor.  Is  Messire  de  Maletroit  at  hand?" 

"I  believe  he  is  writing  in  the  salle  without,"  she 
answered. 

"May  I  lead  you,  thither,  madam?"  asked  Denis,  offer- 
ing his  hand  with  his  most  courtly  bearing. 

She  accepted  it;  and  the  pair  passed  out  of  the  chapel, 
Blanche  in  a  very  drooping  and  shamefast  condition,  but 
Denis  strutting  and  ruffling  in  the  consciousness  of  a 
mission,  and  the  boyish  certainty  of  accomplishing  it 
with  honor. 

The  Sire  de  Maletroit  rose  to  meet  them  with  an  iron- 
ical obeisance. 

"Sir,"  said  Denis,  with  the  grandest  possible  air,  "I 
believe  I  am  to  have  some  say  in  the  matter  of  this  mar- 
riage; and  let  me  tell  you  at  once,  I  will  be  no  party  to 
forcing  the  inclination  of  this  young  lady.  Had  it  been 
freely  offered  to  me,  I  should  have  been  proud  to  accept 
her  hand,  for  I  perceive  she  is  as  good  as  she  is  beautiful; 
but  as  things  are,  I  have  now  the  honor,  messire,  of 
refusing." 

Blanche  looked  at  him  with  gratitude  in  her  eyes;  but 
the  old  gentleman  only  smiled  and  smiled,  until  his  smile 
grew  positively  sickening  to  Denis. 

"I  am  afraid,"  he  said,  "Monsieur  de  Beaulieu,  that 
you  do  not  perfectly  understand  the  choice  I  have  offered 
you.  Follow  me,  I  beseech  you,  to  this  window."  And 
he  led  the  way  to  one  of  the  large  windows  which  stood 
open  on  the  night.  "You  observe,"  he  went  on,  "there 


292  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

is  an  iron  ring  in  the  upper  masonry,  and  reeved  through 
that,  a  very  efficacious  rope.  Now,  mark  my  words:  if 
you  should  find  your  disinclination  to  my  niece's  person 
insurmountable,  I  shall  have  you  hanged  out  of  this  win- 
dow before  sunrise.  I  shall  only  proceed  to  such  an 
extremity  with  the  greatest  regret,  you  may  believe  me. 
For  it  is  not  at  all  your  death  that  I  desire,  but  my  niece's 
establishment  in  life.  At  the  same  time,  it  must  come  to 
that  if  you  prove  obstinate.  Your  family,  Monsieur  de 
Beaulieu,  is  very  well  in  its  way;  but  if  you  sprang  from 
Charlemagne,  you  should  not  refuse  the  hand  of  a  Maletroit 
with  impunity — not  if  she  had  been  as  common  as  the 
Paris  road — not  if  she  were  as  hideous  as  the  gargoyle 
over  my  door.  Neither  my  niece  nor  you,  nor  my  own 
private  feelings,  move  me  at  all  in  this  matter.  The 
honor  of  my  house  has  been  compromised;  I  believe  you 
to  be  the  guilty  person,  at  least  you  are  now  in  the  secret; 
and  you  can  hardly  wonder  if  I  request  you  to  wipe  out 
the  stain.  If  you  will  not,  your  blood  be  on  your  own 
head!  It  will  be  no  great  satisfaction  to  me  to  have  your 
interesting  relics  kicking  their  heels  in  the  breeze  below 
my  windows,  but  half  a  loaf  is  better  than  no  bread,  and 
if  I  cannot  cure  the  dishonor,  I  shall  at  least  stop  the 
scandal." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"I  believe  there  are  other  ways  of  settling  such  im- 
broglios among  gentlemen,"  said  Denis.  "You  wear  a 
sword,  and  I  hear  you  have  used  it  with  distinction." 

The  Sire  de  Maletroit  made  a  signal  to  the  chaplain, 
who  crossed  the  room  with  long  silent  strides  and  raised 
the  arras  over  the  third  of  the  three  doors.  It  was  only 
a  moment  before  he  let  it  fall  again;  but  Denis  had  time 
to  see  a  dusky  passage  full  of  armed  men. 

"When  I  was  a  little  younger,  I  should  have  been  de- 


THE  SIRE  DE  MALETROIT'S  DOOR  293 

lighted  to  honor  you,  Monsieur  de  Beaulieu,"  said  Sire 
Alain;  "but  I  am  now  too  old.  Faithful  retainers  are  the 
sinews  of  age,  and  I  must  employ  the  strength  I  have. 
This  is  one  of  the  hardest  things  to  swallow  as  a  man 
grows  up  in  years;  but  with  a  little  patience,  even  this 
becomes  habitual.  You  and  the  lady  seem  to  prefer  tke 
salle  for  what  remains  of  your  two  hours;  and  as  I  have 
no  desire  to  cross  your  preference,  I  shall  resign  it  to  your 
use  with  all  the  pleasure  in  the  world.  No  haste!"  he 
added,  holding  up  his  hand,  as  he  saw  a  dangerous  look 
come  into  Denis  de  Beaulieu's  face.  "If  your  mind  re- 
volt against  hanging,  it  will  be  time  enough  two  hours 
hence  to  throw  yourself  out  of  the  window  or  upon  the 
pikes  of  my  retainers.  Two  hours  of  life  are  always  two 
hours.  A  great  many  things  may  turn  up  in  even  as  little 
a  while  as  that.  And,  besides,  if  I  understand  her  ap- 
pearance, my  niece  has  something  to  say  to  you.  You 
will  not  disfigure  your  last  hours  by  a  want  of  politeness 
to  a  lady?" 

Denis  looked  at  Blanche,  and  she  made  him  an  implor- 
ing gesture. 

It  is  likely  that  the  old  gentleman  was  hugely  pleased 
at  this  symptom  of  an  understanding;  for  he  smiled 
on  both,  and  added  sweetly:  "If  you  will  give  me  your 
word  of  honor,  Monsieur  de  Beaulieu,  to  await  my 
return  at  the  end  of  the  two  hours  before  attempt- 
ing anything  desperate,  I  shall  withdraw  my  re- 
tainers, and  let  you  speak  in  greater  privacy  with 
mademoiselle. ' ' 

Denis  again  glanced  at  the  girl,  who  seemed  to  beseech 
him  to  agree. 

"I  give  you  my  word  of  honor,"  he  said. 

Messire  de  Maletroit  bowed,  and  proceeded  to  limp 
about  the  apartment,  clearing  his  throat  the  while  with 


294  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

that  odd  musical  chirp  which  had  already  grown  so  irri- 
tating in  the  ears  of  Denis  de  Beaulieu.  He  first  possessed 
himself  of  some  papers  which  lay  upon  the  table;  then  he 
went  to  the  mouth  of  the  passage  and  appeared  to  give  an 
order  to  the  men  behind  the  arras;  and  lastly  he  hobbled 
out  through  the  door  by  which  Denis  had  come  in,  turning 
upon  the  threshold  to  address  a  last  smiling  bow  to  the 
young  couple,  and  followed  by  the  chaplain  with  a  hand- 
lamp. 

No  sooner  were  they  alone  than  Blanche  advanced 
towards  Denis  with  her  hands  extended.  Her  face  was 
flushed  and  excited,  and  her  eyes  shone  with  tears. 

"You  shall  not  die!"  she  cried,  "you  shall  marry  me 
after  all." 

"You  seem  to  think,  madam,"  replied  Denis,  "that  I 
stand  much  in  fear  of  death. ' ' 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  she  said,  "I  see  you  are  no  poltroon.  It 
is  for  my  own  sake — I  could  not  bear  to  have  you  slain  for 
such  a  scruple. ' ' 

"I  am  afraid,"  returned  Denis,  "that  you  underrate 
the  difficulty,  madam.  What  you  may  be  too  generous  to 
refuse,  I  may  be  too  proud  to  accept.  In  a  moment  of 
noble  feeling  towards  me,  you  forgot  what  you  perhaps 
owe  to  others." 

He  had  the  decency  to  keep  his  eyes  on  the  floor  as  he 
said  this,  and  after  he  had  finished,  so  as  not  to  spy  upon 
her  confusion.  She  stood  silent  for  a  moment,  then  walked 
suddenly  away,  and  falling  on  her  uncle's  chair,  fairly 
burst  out  sobbing.  Denis  was  in  the  acme  of  embarrass- 
ment. He  looked  round,  as  if  to  seek  for  inspiration,  and 
seeing  a  stool,  plumped  down  upon  it  for  something  to 
do.  There  he  sat  playing  with  the  guard  of  his  rapier, 
and  wishing  himself  dead  a  thousand  times  over,  and 
buried  in  the  nastiest  kitchen-heap  in  France.  His  eyes 


THE  SIRE  DE  MALETROIT'S  DOOR  295 

wandered  round  the  apartment,  but  found  nothing  to 
arrest  them.  There  were  such  wide  spaces  between  the 
furniture,  the  light  fell  so  badly  and  cheerlessly  over  all, 
the  dark  outside  air  looked  in  so  coldly  through  the  win- 
dows, that  he  thought  he  had  never  seen  a  church  so  vast, 
nor  a  tomb  so  melancholy.  The  regular  sobs  of  Blanche 
de  Maletroit  measured  out  the  time  like  the  ticking  of  a 
clock.  He  read  the  device  upon  the  shield  over  and  over 
again,  until  his  eyes  became  obscured;  he  stared  into 
shadowy  corners  until  he  imagined  they  were  swarming 
with  horrible  animals;  and  every  now  and  again  he  awoke 
with  a  start,  to  remember  that  his  last  two  hours  were 
running,  and  death  was  on  the  march. 

Oftener  and  oftener,  as  the  time  went  on,  did  his  glance 
settle  on  the  girl  herself.  Her  face  was  bowed  forward 
and  covered  with  her  hands,  and  she  was  shaken  at  inter- 
vals by  the  convulsive  hiccup  of  grief.  Even  thus  she 
was  not  an  unpleasant  object  to  dwell  upon,  so  plump  and 
yet  so  fine,  with  a  warm  brown  skin,  and  the  most  beau- 
tiful hair,  Denis  thought,  in  the  whole  world  of  woman- 
kind. Her  hands  were  like  her  uncle's;  but  they  were 
more  in  place  at  the  end  of  her  young  arms,  and  looked 
infinitely  soft  and  caressing.  He  remembered  how  her 
blue  eyes  had  shone  upon  him,  full  of  anger,  pity,  and 
innocence.  And  the  more  he  dwelt  on  her  perfections, 
the  uglier  death  looked,  and  the  more  deeply  was  he 
smitten  with  penitence  at  her  continued  tears.  Now  he 
felt  that  no  man  could  have  the  courage  to  leave  a  world 
which  contained  so  beautiful  a  creature;  and  now  he 
would  have  given  forty  minutes  of  his  last  hour  to  have 
unsaid  his  cruel  speech. 

Suddenly  a  hoarse  and  ragged  peal  of  cockcrow  rose  to 
their  ears  from  the  dark  valley  below  the  windows.  And 
this  shattering  noise  in  the  silence  of  all  around  was  like 


296  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

a  light  in  a  dark  place,  and  shook  them  both  out  of  their 
reflections. 

"Alas,  can  I  do  nothing  to  help  you?"  she  said,  look- 
ing up. 

"Madam,"  replied  Denis,  with  a  fine  irrelevancy,  "if 
I  have  said  anything  to  wound  you,  believe  me,  it  was 
for  your  own  sake  and  not  for  mine. ' ' 

She  thanked  him  with  a  tearful  look. 

"I  feel  your  position  cruelly,"  he  went  on.  "The 
world  has  been  bitter  hard  on  you.  Your  uncle  is  a  dis- 
grace to  mankind.  Believe  me,  madam,  there  is  no  young 
gentleman  in  all  France  but  would  be  glad  of  my  oppor- 
tunity, to  die  in  doing  you  a  momentary  service." 

"I  know  already  that  you  can  be  very  brave  and  gener- 
ous," she  answered.  "What  I  want  to  know  is  whether 
I  can  serve  you — now  or  afterwards,"  she  added,  with  a 
quaver. 

"Most  certainly,"  he  answered  with  a  smile.  "Let 
me  sit  beside  you  as  if  I  were  a  friend,  instead  of  a  fool- 
ish intruder;  try  to  forget  how  awkwardly  we  are  placed 
to  one  another;  make  my  last  moments  go  pleasantly;  and 
you  will  do  me  the  chief  service  possible. ' ' 

"You  are  very  gallant,"  she  added,  with  a  yet  deeper 
sadness  ....  "very  gallant  ....  and  it  somehow 
pains  me.  But  draw  nearer,  if  you  please;  and  if  you 
find  anything  to  say  to  me,  you  will  at  least  make  certain 
of  a  very  friendly  listener.  Ah!  Monsieur  de  Beaulieu," 
she  broke  forth — "ah!  Monsieur  de  Beaulieu,  how  can  I 
look  you  in  the  face?"  And  she  fell  to  weeping  again 
with  a  renewed  effusion. 

"Madam,"  said  Denis,  taking  her  hand  in  both  of  his, 
"reflect  on  the  little  time  I  have  before  me,  and  the 
great  bitterness  into  which  I  am  cast  by  the  sight  of 
your  distress.  Spare  me,  in  my  last  moments,  the  spec- 


THE  SIRE  DE  MALETROIT'S  DOOR  297 

tacle  of  what  I  cannot  cure  even  with  the  sacrifice  of  my 
life." 

"I  am  very  selfish, "  answered  Blanche.  "I  will  be 
braver,  Monsieur  de  Beaulieu,  for  your  sake.  But  think 
if  I  can  do  you  no  kindness  in  the  future — if  you  have  no 
friends  to  whom  I  could  carry  your  adieux.  Charge  me 
as  heavily  as  you  can;  every  burden  will  lighten,  by  so 
little,  the  invaluable  gratitude  I  owe  you.  Put  it  in  my 
power  to  do  something  more  for  you  than  weep. ' ' 

"My  mother  is  married  again,  and  has  a  young  family 
to  care  for.  My  brother  Guichard  will  inherit  my  fiefs; 
and  if  I  am  not  in  error,  that  will  content  him  amply  for 
my  death.  Life  is  a  little  vapor  that  passeth  away,  as  we 
are  told  by  those  in  holy  orders.  When  a  man  is  in  a  fair 
way  and  sees  all  life  open  in  front  of  him,  he  seems  to 
himself  to  make  a  very  important  figure  in  the  world. 
His  horse  whinnies  to  him;  the  'trumpets  blow  and  the 
girls  look  out  of  window  as  he  rides  into  town  before  his 
company ;  he  receives  many  assurances  of  trust  and  regard 
— sometimes  by  express  in  a  letter — sometimes  face  to 
face,  with  persons  of  great  consequence  falling  on  his 
neck.  It  is  not  wonderful  if  his  head  is  turned  for  a 
time.  But  once  he  is  dead,  were  he  as  brave  as  Hercules 
or  as  wise  as  Solomon,  he  is  soon  forgotten.  It  is  not  ten 
years  since  my  father  fell,  with  many  other  knights 
around  him,  in  a  very  fierce  encounter,  and  I  do  not  think 
that  any  one  of  them,  nor  so  much  as  the  name  of  the 
fight,  is  now  remembered.  No,  no,  madam,  the  nearer 
you  come  to  it,  you  see  that  death  is  a  dark  and  dusty 
corner,  where  a  man  gets  into  his  tomb  and  has  the  door 
shut  after  him  till  the  judgment  day.  I  have  few  friends 
just  now,  and  once  I  am  dead  I  shall  have  none. ' ' 

"Ah,  Monsieur  de  Beaulieu!"  she  exclaimed,  "you  for- 
get Blanche  de  Maletroit." 


298  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"You  have  a  sweet  nature,  madam,  and  you  are  pleased 
to  estimate  a  little  service  far  beyond  its  worth." 

"It  is  not  that,"  she  answered.  "You  mistake  me  if 
you  think  I  am  easily  touched  by  my  own  concerns.  I 
say  so,  because  you  are  the  noblest  man  I  have  ever  met  ; 
because  I  recognize  in  you  a  spirit  that  would  have  made 
even  a  common  person  famous  in  the  land." 

"And  yet  here  I  die  in  a  mousetrap — with  no  more 
noise  about  it  than  my  own  squeaking,"  answered  he. 

A  look  of  pain  crossed  her  face,  and  she  was  silent  for 
a  little  while.  Then  a  light  came  into  her  eyes,  and  with 
a  smile  she  spoke  again. 

"I  cannot  have  my  champion  think  meanly  of  himself. 
Anyone  who  gives  his  life  for  another  will  be  met  in 
Paradise  by  all  the  heralds  and  angels  of  the  Lord  God. 
And  you  have  no  such  cause  to  hang  your  head.  For 
....  Pray,  do  you  think  me  beautiful?"  she  asked, 
with  a  deep  flush. 

"Indeed,  madam,  I  do,"  he  said. 

"I  am  glad  of  that,"  she  answered  heartily.  "Do  you 
think  there  are  many  men  in  France  who  have  been  asked 
in  marriage  by  a  beautiful  maiden — with  her  own  lips — 
and  who  have  refused  her  to  her  face?  I  know  you  men 
would  half  despise  such  a  triumph;  but  believe  me,  we 
women  know  more  of  what  is  precious  in  love.  There  is 
nothing  that  should  set  a  person  higher  in  his  own  esteem; 
and  we  women  would  prize  nothing  more  dearly. ' ' 

"You  are  very  good,"  he  said;  "but  you  cannot  make 
me  forget  that  I  was  asked  in  pity  and  not  for  love." 

"I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  she  replied,  holding  down 
her  head.  "Hear  me  to  an  end,  Monsieur  de  Beaulieu. 
I  know  how  you  must  despise  me;  I  feel  you  are  right  to 
do  so;  I  am  too  poor  a  creature  to  occupy  one  thought  of 
your  mind,  although,  alas!  you  must  die  for  me  this 


THE  SIRE  DE  MALETROIT'S  DOOR  299 

morning.  But  when  I  asked  you  to  marry  me,  indeed, 
and  indeed,  it  was  because  I  respected  and  admired  you, 
and  loved  you  with  my  whole  soul,  from  the  very  moment 
that  you  took  my  part  against  my  uncle.  If  you  had  seen 
yourself,  and  how  noble  you  looked,  you  would  pity  rather 
than  despise  me.  And  now,"  she  went  on,  hurriedly 
checking  him  with  her  hand,  "although  I  have  laid  aside 
all  reserve  and  told  you  so  much,  remember  that  I  know 
your  sentiments  towards  me  already.  I  would  not,  believe 
me,  being  nobly  born,  weary  you  with  importunities  into 
consent.  I  too  have  a  pride  of  my  own:  and  I  declare 
before  the  holy  mother  of  God,  if  you  should  now  go  back 
from  your  word  already  given,  I  would  no  more  kmarry 
you  than  I  would  marry  my  uncle's  groom." 

Denis  smiled  a  little  bitterly. 

"It  is  a  small  love,"  he  said,  "that  shies  at  a  little 
pride." 

She  made  no  answer,  although  she  probably  had  her 
own  thoughts. 

"Come  hither  to  the  window,"  he  said  with  a  sigh. 
"Here  is  the  dawn." 

And  indeed  the  dawn  was  already  beginning.  The 
hollow  of  the  sky  was  full  of  essential  daylight,  colorless 
and  clean;  and  the  valley  underneath  was  flooded  with  a 
gray  reflection.  A  few  thin  vapors  clung  in  the  coves  of 
the  forest  or  lay  along  the  winding  course  of  the  river. 
The  scene  disengaged  a  surprising  effect  of  stillness, 
which  was  hardly  interrupted  when  the  cocks  began  once 
more  to  crow  among  the  steadings.  Perhaps  the  same 
fellow  who  had  made  so  horrid  a  clangor  in  the  darkness 
not  half  an  hour  before,  now  sent  up  the  merriest  cheer 
to  greet  the  coming  day.  A  little  wind  went  bustling 
and  eddying  among  the  tree-tops  underneath  the  windows. 
And  still  the  daylight  kept  flooding  insensibly  out  of  the 


300  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

east,  which  was  soon  to  grow  incandescent  and  cast  up 
that  red-hot  cannon-ball,  the  rising  sun. 

Denis  looked  out  over  all  this  with  a  bit  of  a  shiver. 
He  had  taken  her  hand,  and  retained  it  in  his  almost 
unconsciously. 

"Has  the  day  begun  already?"  she  said;  and  then, 
illogically  enough:  "the  night  has  been  so  long!  Alas! 
what  shall  we  say  to  my  uncle  when  he  returns?" 

"What  you  will,"  said  Denis,  and  he  pressed  her  fingers 
in  his. 

She  was  silent. 

"Blanche,"  he  said,  with  a  swift,  uncertain,  passionate 
utterance,  "you  have  seen  whether  I  fear  death.  You 
must  know  well  enough  that  I  would  as  gladly  leap  out  of 
that  window  into  the  empty  air  as  to  lay  a  finger  on  you 
without  your  free  and  full  consent.  But  if  you  care  for 
me  at  all  do  not  let  me  lose  my  life  in  a  misapprehension; 
for  I  love  you  better  than  the  whole  world ;  and  though  I 
will  die  for  you  blithely,  it  would  be  like  all  the  joys  of 
Paradise  to  live  on  and  spend  my  life  in  your  service." 

As  he  stopped  speaking,  a  bell  began  to  ring  loudly  in 
the  interior  of  the  house;  and  a  clatter  of  armor  in  the 
corridor  showed  that  the  retainers  were  returning  to  their 
post,  and  the  two  hours  were  at  an  end. 

"After  all  that  you  have  heard?"  she  whispered,  lean- 
ing towards  him  with  her  lips  and  eyes. 

"I  have  heard  nothing,"  he  replied. 

"The  captain's  name  was  Florimond  de  Champdivers, " 
she  said  in  his  ear. 

"I  did  not  hear  it,"  he  answered,  taking  her  supple 
body  in  his  arms,  and  covered  her  wet  face  with  kisses. 

A  melodious  chirping  was  audible  behind,  followed  by 
a  beautiful  chuckle,  and  the  voice  of  Messire  de  Maletroit 
wished  his  new  nephew  a  good  morning. 


PROVIDENCE  AND  THE  GUITAR 

CHAPTER   I 

MONSIEUR  LEON  BERTHELINI  had  a  great  care  of  his 
appearance,  and  sedulously  suited  his  deportment  to  the 
costume  of  the  hour.  He  affected  something  Spanish  in 
his  air,  and  something  of  the  bandit,  with  a  flavor  of 
Rembrandt  at  home.  In  person  he  was  decidedly  small 
and  inclined  to  be  stout;  his  face  was  the  picture  of  good 
humor;  his  dark  eyes,  which  were  very  expressive,  told 
of  a  kind  heart,  a  brisk,  merry  nature,  and  the  most  in- 
defatigable spirits.  If  he  had  worn  the  clothes  of  the 
period  you  would  have  set  him  down  for  a  hitherto  un- 
discovered hybrid  between  the  barber,  the  innkeeper,  and 
the  affable  dispensing  chemist.  But  in  the  outrageous 
bravery  of  velvet  jacket  and  flapped  hat,  with  trousers 
that  were  more  accurately  described  as  fleshings,  a  white 
handkerchief  cavalierly  knotted  at  his  neck,  a  shock  of 
Olympian  curls  upon  his  brow,  and  his  feet  shod  through 
all  weathers  in  the  slenderest  of  Moliere  shoes — you  had 
but  to  look  at  him  and  you  knew  you  were  in  the  presence 
of  a  Great  Creature.  When  he  wore  an  overcoat  he  scorned 
to  pass  the  sleeves;  a  single  button  held  it  round  his 
shoulders;  it  was  tossed  backwards  after  the  manner  of  a 
cloak,  and  carried  with  the  gait  and  presence  of  an  Alma- 
viva.  I  am  of  opinion  that  M.  Berthelini  was  nearing 
forty.  But  he  had  a  boy's  heart,  gloried  in  his  finery, 
and  walked  through  life  like  a  child  in  a  perpetual  dra- 
matic performance.  If  he  were  not  Almaviva  after  all, 


302  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

it  was  not  for  lack  of  making  believe.  And  he  enjoyed 
the  artist's  compensation.  If  he  were  not  really  Alma- 
viva,  he  was  sometimes  just  as  happy  as  though  he 
were. 

I  have  seen  him,  at  moments  when  he  has  fancied  him- 
self alone  with  his  Maker,  adopt  so  gay  and  chivalrous 
a  bearing,  and  represent  his  own  part  with  so  much 
warmth  and  conscience,  that  the  illusion  became  catch- 
ing, and  I  believed  implicitly  in  the  Great  Creature's 
pose. 

But,  alas!  life  cannot  be  entirely  conducted  on  these 
principles;  man  cannot  live  by  Almavivery  alone;  and  the 
Great  Creature,  having  failed  upon  several  theatres,  was 
obliged  to  step  down  every  evening  from  his  heights,  and 
sing  from  half-a-dozen  to  a  dozen  comic  songs,  twang  a 
guitar,  keep  a  country  audience  in  good  humor,  and  pre- 
side finally  over  the  mysteries  of  a  tombola. 

Madame  Berthelini,  who  was  art  and  part  with  him  in 
these  undignified  labors,  had  perhaps  a  higher  position 
in  the  scale  of  beings,  and  enjoyed  a  natural  dignity  of 
her  own.  But  her  heart  was  not  any  more  rightly  placed, 
for  that  would  have  been  impossible;  and  she  had  acquired 
a  little  air  of  melancholy,  attractive  enough  in  its  way, 
but  not  good  to  see  like  the  wholesome,  sky-scraping, 
boyish  spirits  of  her  lord. 

He,  indeed,  swam  like  a  kite  on  a  fair  wind,  high 
above  earthly  troubles.  Detonations  of  temper  were  not 
unfrequent  in  the  zones  he  traveled;  but  sulky  fogs  and 
tearful  depressions  were  there  alike  unknown.  A  well- 
delivered  blow  upon  a  table,  or  a  noble  attitude,  imitated 
from  Melingue  or  Frederic,  relieved  his  irritation  like  a 
vengeance.  Though  the  heaven  had  fallen,  if  he  had 
played  his  part  with  propriety,  Berthelini  had  been  con- 
tent! And  the  man's  atmosphere,  if  not  his  example. 


PROVIDENCE  AND  THE  GUITAR  303 

reacted  on  his  wife;  for  the  couple  doted  on  each  other, 
and  although  you  would  have  thought  they  walked  in 
different  worlds,  yet  continued  to  walk  hand  in  hand. 

It  chanced  one  day  that  Monsieur  and  Madame  Berthe- 
lini  descended  with  two  boxes  and  a  guitar  in  a  fat  case 
at  the  station  of  the  little  town  of  Castel-le-Gachis,  and 
the  omnibus  carried  them  with  their  effects  to  the  Hotel 
of  the  Black  Head.  This  was  a  dismal,  conventual  build- 
ing in  a  narrow  street,  capable  of  standing  siege  when 
once  the  gates  were  shut,  and  smelling  [strangely  in  the 
interior  of  straw  and  chocolate  and  old  feminine  apparel. 
Berthelini  paused  upon  the  threshold  with  a  painful  pre- 
monition. In  some  former  state,  it  seemed  to  him,  he 
had  visited  a  hostelry  that  smelt  not  otherwise,  and  been 
ill  received. 

The  landlord,  a  tragic  person  in  a  large  felt  hat,  rose 
from  a  business  table  under  the  key-rack,  and  came  for- 
ward, removing  his  hat  with  both  hands  as  he  did  so. 

"Sir,  I  salute  you.  May  I  inquire  what  is  your  charge 
for  artists?"  inquired  Berthelini,  with  a  courtesy  at  once 
splendid  and  insinuating. 

"For  artists?"  said  the  landlord.  His  countenance  fell 
and  the  smile  of  welcome  disappeared.  "Oh,  artists!"  he 
added,  brutally;  "four  francs  a  day."  And  he  turned  his 
back  upon  these  inconsiderable  customers. 

A  commercial  traveler  is  received,  he  also,  upon  a  re- 
duction— yet  is  he  welcome,  yet  can  he  command  the 
fatted  calf;  but  an  artist,  had  he  the  manners  of  an  Alma- 
viva,  were  he  dressed  like  Solomon  in  all  his  glory,  is 
received  like  a  dog  and  served  like  a  timid  lady  traveling 
alone. 

Accustomed  as  he  was  to  the  rubs  of  his  profession, 
Berthelini  was  unpleasantly  affected  by  the  landlord's 
manner. 


304  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"Elvira,  "said  he  to  his  wife,  "mark  my  words:  Castel- 
le-Gachis  is  a  tragic  folly. ' ' 

"Wait  till  we  see  what  we  take,"  replied  Elvira. 

"We  shall  take  nothing,"  returned  Berthelini;  "we 
shall  feed  upon  insults.  I  have  an  eye,  Elvira;  I  have  a 
spirit  of  divination;  and  this  place  is  accursed.  The 
landlord  has  been  discourteous,  the  Commissary  will  be 
brutal,  the  audience  will  be  sordid  and  uproarious,  and 
you  will  take  a  cold  upon  your  throat.  We  have  been 
besotted  enough  to  come ;  the  die  is  cast — it  will  be  a 
second  Sedan." 

Sedan  was  a  town  hateful  to  the  Berthelinis,  not  only 
from  patriotism  (for  they  were  French,  and  answered 
after  the  flesh  to  the  somewhat  homely  name  of  Duval), 
but  because  it  had  been  the  scene  of  their  most  sad  re- 
verses. In  that  place  they  had  lain  three  weeks  in  pawn 
for  their  hotel  bill,  and  had  it  not  been  for  a  surprising 
stroke  of  fortune  they  might  have  been  lying  there  [in 
pawn  until  this  day.  To  mention  the  name  of  Sedan  was 
for  the  Berthelinis  to  dip  the  brush  in  earthquake  and 
eclipse.  Count  Almaviva  slouched  his  hat  with  a  gesture 
expressive  of  despair,  and  even  Elvira  felt  as  if  ill-fortune 
had  been  personally  invoked. 

"Let  us  ask  for  breakfast,"  said  she,  with  a  woman's 
tact. 

The  Commissary  of  Police  of  Castel-le-Gachis  was  a 
large  red  Commissary,  pimpled,  and  subject  to  a  strong 
cutaneous  transpiration.  I  have  repeated  the  name  of  his 
office  because  he  was  so  very  much  more  a  Commissary 
than  a  man.  The  spirit  of  his  dignity  had  entered  into 
him.  He  carried  his  corporation  as  if  it  were  something 
official.  Whenever  he  insulted  a  common  citizen  it  seemed 
to  him  as  if  he  were  adroitly  flattering  the  Government 
by  a  side  wind ;  in  default  of  dignity  he  was  brutal  from 


PROVIDENCE  AND  THE  GUITAR  305 

an  over-weening  sense  of  duty.  His  office  was  a  den, 
whence  passersby  could  hear  rude  accents  laying  down, 
not  the  law,  but  the  good  pleasure  of  the  Commissary. 

Six  several  times  in  the  course  of  the  day  did  M. 
Berthelini  hurry  thither  in  quest  of  the  requisite  per- 
mission for  his  evening's  entertainment;  six  several  times 
he  found  the  official  was  abroad.  Leon  Berthelini  began 
to  grow  quite  a  familiar  figure  in  the  streets  of  Castel- 
le-Gachis;  he  became  a  local  celebrity,  and  was  pointed 
out  as  "the  man  who  was  looking  for  the  Commissary." 
Idle  children  attached  themselves  to  his  footsteps,  and 
trotted  after  him  back  and  forward  between  the  hotel 
and  the  office.  Leon  might  try  as  he  liked;  he  might  roll 
cigarettes,  he  might  straddle,  he  might  cock  his  hat  at  a 
dozen  different  jaunty  inclinations — the  part  of  Almaviva 
was,  under  the  circumstances,  difficult  to  play. 

As  he  passed  the  market-place  upon  the  seventh  excur- 
sion the  Commissary  was  pointed  out  to  him,  where  he 
stood,  with  his  waistcoat  unbuttoned  and  his  hands  behind 
his  back,  to  superintend  the  sale  and  measurement  of 
butter.  Berthelini  threaded  his  way  through  the  market 
stalls  and  baskets,  and  accosted  the  dignitary  with  a  bow 
which  was  a  triumph  of  the  histrionic  art. 

"I  have  the  honor,"  he  asked,  "of  meeting  M.  le  Com- 
missaire?" 

The  Commissary  was  affected  by  the  nobility  of  his 
address.  He  excelled  Leon  in  the  depth  if  not  in  the 
airy  grace  of  his  salutation. 

"The  honor,"  said  he,  "is  mine!" 

"I  am,"  continued  the  strolling-player,  "I  am,  sir,  an 
artist,  and  I  have  permitted  myself  to  interrupt  you  on 
an  affair  of  business.  To-night  I  give  a  trifling  musical 
entertainment  at  the  Cafe  of  the  Triumphs  of  the  Plough 
— permit  me  to  offer  you  this  little  programme — and 


306  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

I  have  come  to  ask  you  for  the  necessary  authoriza- 
tion." 

At  the  word  "artist,"  the  Commissary  had  replaced  his 
hat  with  the  air  of  a  person  who,  having  condescended 
too  far,  should  suddenly  remember  the  duties  of  his  rank. 

"Go,  go,"  said  he,  "I  am  busy — I  am  measuring 
butter." 

"Heathen  Jew!"  thought  Leon.  "Permit  me,  sir," 
he  resumed,  aloud.  "I  have  gone  six  times  already 

"Put  up  your  bills  if  you  choose,"  interrupted  the 
Commissary.  "In  an  hour  or  so  I  will  examine  your 
papers  at  the  office.  But  now  go;  I  am  busy." 

"Measuring butter?"  thought  Berthelini.  "Oh,  France, 
and  it  is  for  this  that  we  made  '93!" 

The  preparations  were  soon  made;  the  bills  posted,  pro- 
grammes laid  on  the  dinner-table  of  every  hotel  in  the 
town,  and  a  stage  erected  at  one  end  of  the  Cafe  of  the 
Triumphs  of  the  Plough ;  but  when  Leon  returned  to  the 
office,  the  Commissary  was  once  more  abroad. 

" He  is  like  Madame  Benoiton, ' '  thought  Leon.  "Fichu 
Commissaire!" 

And  just  then  he  met  the  man  face  to  face. 

"Here,  sir,"  said  he,  "are  my  papers.  Will  you  be 
pleased  to  verify?" 

But  the  Commissary  was  now  intent  upon  dinner. 

"No  use,"  he  replied,  "no  use;  I  am  busy;  I  am  quite 
satisfied.  Give  your  entertainment." 

And  he  hurried  on. 

"Fichu  Commissaire!"  thought  Leon. 


PROVIDENCE  AND  THE  GUITAR  307 


CHAPTER   II 

The  audience  was  pretty  large;  and  the  proprietor  of 
the  cafe  made  a  good  thing  of  it  in  beer.  But  the  Berthe- 
linis  exerted  themselves  in  vain. 

Leon  was  radiant  in  velveteen;  he  had  a  rakish  way  of 
smoking  a]  cigarette  between  his  songs  that  was  worth 
money  in  itself;  he  underlined  his  comic  points,  so  that 
the  dullest  numskull  in  Castel-le-Gachis  had  a  notion 
when  to  laugh;  and  he  handled  his  guitar  in  a  manner 
worthy  of  himself.  Indeed  his  play  with  that  instrument 
was  as  good  as  a  whole  romantic  drama;  it  was  so  dash- 
ing, so  florid,  and  so  cavalier. 

Elvira,  on  the  other  hand,  sang  her  patriotic  and  ro- 
mantic songs  with  more  than  usual  expression;  her  voice 
had  charm  and  plangency;  and  as  Leon  looked  at  her,  in 
her  low-bodied  maroon  dress,  with  her  arms  bare  to  the 
shoulder,  and  a  red  flower  set  provocatively  in  her  corset, 
he  repeated  to  himself  for  the  many  hundredth  time  that 
she  was  one  of  the  loveliest  creatures  in  the  world  of 
women. 

Alas!  when  she  went  round  with  the  tambourine,  the 
golden  youth  of  Castel-le-Gachis  turned  from  her  coldly. 
Here  and  there  a  single  halfpenny  was  forthcoming;  the 
net  result  of  a  collection  never  exceeded  half  a  franc; 
and  the  Maire  himself,  after  seven  different  applications, 
had  contributed  exactly  twopence.  A  certain  chill  began 
to  settle  upon  the  artists  themselves;  it  seemed  as  if  they 
were  singing  to  slugs;  Apollo  himself  might  have  lost 
heart  with  such  an  audience.  The  Berthelinis  struggled 
against  the  impression;  they  put  their  back  into  their 
work,  they  sang  loud  and  louder,  the  guitar  twanged  like 
a  living  thing;  and  at  last  Leon  arose  in  his  might,  and 


308  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

burst  with  inimitable  conviction  into  his  great  song, 
4 '  Y  a  des  honnttes  gens  partout ! ' '  Never  had  he  given 
more  proof  of  his  artistic  mastery;  it  was  his  intimate, 
indefeasible  conviction  that  Castel-le-Gachis  formed  an 
exception  to  the  law  he  was  now  lyrically  proclaiming, 
and  was  peopled  exclusively  by  thieves  and  bullies;  and 
yet,  as  I  say,  he  flung  it  down  like  a  challenge,  he  trolled 
it  forth  like  an  article  of  faith;  and  his  face  so  beamed 
the  while  that  you  would  have  thought  he  must  make 
converts  of  the  benches. 

He  was  at  the  top  of  his  register,  with  his  head  thrown 
back  and  his  mouth  open,  when  the  door  was  thrown  vio- 
lently open,  and  a  pair  of  new  comers  marched  noisily 
into  the  cafe.  It  was  the  Commissary,  followed  by  the 
Garde  Champetre. 

The  undaunted  Berthelini  still  continued  to  proclaim, 
"Y  a  des  honnetes  gens  partout!"  But  now  the  sen- 
timent produced  an  audible  titter  among  the  audience. 
Berthelini  wondered  why;  he  did  not  know  the  antecedents 
of  the  Garde  Champetre;  he  had  never  heard  of  a  little 
story  about  postage  stamps.  But  the  public  knew  all 
about  the  postage  stamps,  and  enjoyed  the  coincidence 
hugely. 

The  Commissary  planted  himself  upon  a  vacant  chair 
with  somewhat  the  air  of  Cromwell  visiting  the  Rump, 
and  spoke  in  occasional  whispers  to  the  Garde  Champetre, 
who  remained  respectfully  standing  at  his  back.  The 
eyes  of  both  were  directed  upon  Berthelini,  who  persisted 
in  his  statement. 

"Ya  des  honnetes  gens  partout,"  he  was  just  chanting 
for  the  twentieth  time;  when  up  got  the  Commissary  upon 
his  feet  and  waved  brutally  to  the  singer  with  his  cane. 

"Is  it  me  you  want?"  inquired  Leon,  stopping  in  his 
song. 


PROVIDENCE  AND  THE  GUITAR  309 

"It  is  you,"  replied  the  potentate. 

" Fichu  Commissaire!"  thought  Leon,  and  he  descended 
from  the  stage  and  made  his  way  to  the  functionary. 

"How  does  it  happen,  sir,"  said  the  Commissary, 
swelling  in  person,  "that  I  find  you  mountebanking  in  a 
public  cafe  without  my  permission?" 

"Without?"  cried  the  indignant  Leon.  "Permit  me 
to  remind  you " 

"Come,  come,  sir!"  said  the  Commissary,  "I  desire  no 
explanations. ' ' 

"I  care  nothing  about  what  you  desire,"  returned  the 
singer.  "I  choose  to  give  them,  and  I  will  not  be  gagged. 
I  am  an  artist,  sir,  a  distinction  that  you  cannot  compre- 
hend. I  received  your  permission  and  stand  here  upon 
the  strength  of  it;  interfere  with  me  who  dare." 

"You  have  not  got  my  signature,  I  tell  you,"  cried  the 
Commissary.  "Show  me  my  signature!  Where  is  my 
signature?" 

That  was  just  the  question;  where  was  his  signature? 
Leon  recognized  that  he  was  in  a  hole;  but  his  spirit  rose 
with  the  occasion,  and  he  blustered  nobly,  tossing  back 
his  curls.  The  Commissary  played  up  to  him  in  the  char- 
acter of  tyrant;  and  as  the  one  leaned  farther  forward,  the 
other  leaned  farther  back — majesty  confronting  fury. 
The  audience  had  transferred  their  attention  to  this  new 
performance,  and  listened  with  that  silent  gravity  com- 
mon to  all  Frenchmen  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  police. 
Elvira  had  sat  down,  she  was  used  to  these  distractions, 
and  it  was  rather  melancholy  than  fear  that  now  op- 
pressed her. 

"Another  word,"  cried  the  Commissary,  "and  I  arrest 
you." 

' 'Arrest  me ! ' '  shouted  Leon .     "I  defy  you ! ' ' 

"I  am  the  Commissary  of  Police,"  said  the  official. 


310  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

Leon  commanded  his  feelings,  and  replied,  with  great 
delicacy  of  innuendo: 

"So  it  would  appear." 

The  point  was  too  refined  for  Castel-le-Gachis;  it  did 
not  raise  a  smile;  and  as  for  the  Commissary,  he  simply 
bade  the  singer  follow  him  to  his  office,  and  directed  his 
proud  footsteps  towards  the  door.  There  was  nothing  for 
it  but  to  obey.  Leon  did  so  with  a  proper  pantomime  of 
indifference,  but  it  was  a  leek  to  eat,  and  there  was  no 
denying  it. 

The  Maire  had  slipped  out  and  was  already  waiting  at 
the  Commissary's  door.  Now  the  Maire,  in  France,  is 
the  refuge  of  the  oppressed.  He  stands  between  his 
people  and  the  boisterous  rigors  of  the  Police.  He  can 
sometimes  understand  what  is  said  to  him;  he  is  not 
always  puffed  up  beyond  measure  by  his  dignity.  'Tis  a 
thing  worth  the  knowledge  of  travelers.  When  all  seems 
over,  and  a  man  has  made  up  his  mind  to  injustice,  he 
has  still,  like  the  heroes  of  romance,  a  little  bugle  at  his 
belt  whereon  to  blow;  and  the  Maire,  a  comfortable  deus 
ex  machina,  may  still  descend  to  deliver  him  from  the 
minions  of  the  law.  The  Maire  of  Castel-le-Gachis,  al- 
though inaccessible  to  the  charms  of  music  as  retailed  by 
the  Berthelinis,  had  no  hesitation  whatever  as  to  the 
rights  of  the  matter.  He  instantly  fell  foul  of  the  Com- 
missary in  very  high  terms,  and  the  Commissary,  pricked 
by  this  humiliation,  accepted  battle  on  the  point  of  fact. 
The  argument  lasted  some  little  while  with  varying  suc- 
cess, until  at  length  victory  inclined  so  plainly  to  the 
Commissary's  side  that  the  Maire  was  fain  to  reassert 
himself  by  an  exercise  of  authority.  He  had  been  out- 
argued,  but  he  was  still  the  Maire.  And  so,  turning 
from  his  interlocutor,  he  briefly  but  kindly  recommended 
Leon  to  go  back  instanter  to  his  concert. 


PROVIDENCE  AND  THE  GUITAR  311 

"It  is  already  growing  late,"  he  added. 

Leon  did  not  wait  to  be  told  twice.  He  returned  to 
the  Cafe  of  the  Triumphs  of  the  Plough  with  all  expedi- 
tion. Alas!  the  audience  had  melted  away  during  his 
absence;  Elvira  was  sitting  in  a  very  disconsolate  attitude 
on  the  guitar-box;  she  had  watched  the  company  dispers- 
ing by  twos  and  threes,  and  the  prolonged  spectacle  had 
somewhat  overwhelmed  her  spirits.  Each  man,  she  re- 
flected, retired  with  a  certain  proportion  of  her  earnings 
in  his  pockets,  and  she  saw  to-night's  board  and  to- 
morrow's railway  expenses,  and  finally  even  to-morrow's 
dinner,  walk  one  after  another  out  of  the  cafe  door  and 
disappear  into  the  night. 

"What  was  it?"  she  asked,  languidly. 

But  Leon  did  not  answer.  He  was  looking  round  him  on 
the  scene  of  defeat.  Scarce  a  score  of  listeners  remained, 
and  these  of  the  least  promising  sort.  The  minute  hand  of 
the  clock  was  already  climbing  upward  towards  eleven. 

"It's  a  lost  battle,"  said  he,  and  then  taking  up  the 
money-box,  he  turned  it  out.  "Three  francs  seventy- 
five!"  he  cried,  "as  against  four  of  board  and  six  of  rail- 
way fares;  and  no  time  for  the  tombola!  Elvira,  this  is 
Waterloo."  And  he  sat  down  and  passed  both  hands 
desperately  among  his  curls.  "0  Fichu  Commissaire!" 
he  cried,  "Fichu  Commissaire!" 

"Let  us  get  the  things  together  and  be  off,"  returned 
Elvira.  "We  might  try  another  song,  but  there  is  not 
six  halfpence  in  the  room." 

"Six  halfpence?"  cried  Leon,  "six  hundred  thousand 
devils!  There  is  not  a  human  creature  in  the  town — 
nothing  but  pigs  and  dogs  and  commissaries!  Pray 
heaven,  we  get  safe  to  bed." 

"Don't  imagine  things!"  exclaimed  Elvira,  with  a 
shudder. 


312  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

And  with  that  they  set  to  work  on  their  preparations. 
The  tobacco-jar,  the  cigarette-holder,  the  three  papers  of 
shirt-studs,  which  were  to  have  been  the  prizes  of  the 
tombola  had  the  tombola  come  off,  were  made  into  a 
bundle  with  the  music;  the  guitar  was  stowed  into  the 
fat  guitar-case;  and  Elvira,  having  thrown  a  thin  shawl 
about  her  neck  and  shoulders,  the  pair  issued  from  the 
cafe  and  set  off  for  the  Black  Head. 

As  they  crossed  the  market-place  the  church  bell  rang 
out  eleven.  It  was  a  dark,  mild  night,  and  there  was  no 
one  in  the  streets. 

"It  is  all  very  fine, "  said  Leon;  "but  I  have  a  presenti- 
ment. The  night  is  not  yet  done." 


CHAPTER   III 

The  "Black  Head"  presented  not  a  single  chink  of  light 
upon  the  street,  and  the  carriage  gate  was  closed. 

"This  is  unprecedented,"  observed  Leon.  "An  inn 
closed  by  five  minutes  after  eleven!  And  there  were 
several  commercial  travelers  in  the  cafe  up  to  a  late  hour. 
Elvira,  my  heart  misgives  me.  Let  us  ring  the  bell." 

The  bell  had  a  potent  note;  and  being  swung  under  the 
arch  it  filled  the  house  from  top  to  bottom  with  surly, 
clanging  reverberations.  The  sound  accentuated  the  con- 
ventual appearance  of  the  building;  a  wintry  sentiment, 
a  thought  of  prayer  and  mortification,  took  hold  upon 
Elvira's  mind;  and  as  for  Leon,  he  seemed  to  be  reading 
the  stage  directions  for  a  lugubrious  fifth  act. 

"This  is  your  fault,"  said  Elvira:  "this  is  what  comes 
of  fancying  things!" 

Again  Leon  pulled  the  bell-rope;  again  the  solemn  toc- 
sin awoke  the  echoes  of  the  inn;  and  ere  they  had  died 


PROVIDENCE  AND  THE  GUITAR  313 

away,  a  light  glimmered  in  the  carriage  entrance,  and  a 
powerful  voice  was  heard  upraised  and  tremulous  with 
wrath. 

"What's  all  this?"  cried  the  tragic  host  through  the 
spars  of  the  gate.  "Hard  upon  twelve,  and  you  come 
clamoring  like  Prussians  at  the  door  of  a  respectable 
hotel?  Oh!"  he  cried,  "I  know  you  now!  Common 
singers!  People  in  trouble  with  the  police!  And  you 
present  yourselves  at  midnight  like  lords  and  ladies?  Be 
off  with  you!" 

"You  will  permit  me  to  remind  you,"  said  Leon,  in 
thrilling  tones,  "that  I  am  a  guest  in  your  house,  that  I 
am  properly  inscribed,  and  that  I  have  deposited  baggage 
to  the  value  of  four  hundred  francs. ' ' 

"You  cannot  get  in  at  this  hour,"  returned  the  man. 
"This  is  no  thieves'  tavern,  for  mohocks  and  night  rakes 
and  organ-grinders." 

"Brute!"  cried  Elvira,  for  the  organ-grinders  touched 
her  home. 

"Then  I  demand  my  baggage,"  said  Leon,  with  un- 
abated dignity. 

"I  know  nothing  of  your  baggage,"  replied  the  land- 
lord. 

"You  detain  my  baggage?  You  dare  to  detain  my 
baggage?"  cried  the  singer. 

"Whoareyou?"  returned  the  landlord.  "It  is  dark — I 
cannot  recognize  you." 

"Very  well,  then — you  detain  my  baggage,"  concluded 
Leon.  "You  shall  smart  for  this.  I  will  weary  out  your 
life  with  persecutions;  I  will  drag  you  from  court  to 
court;  if  there  is  justice  to  be  had  in  France,  it  shall  be 
rendered  between  you  and  me.  And  I  will  make  you  a 
by-word — I  will  put  you  in  a  song — a  scurrilous  song — 
an  indecent  song — a  popular  song — which  the  boys  shall 


314  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

sing  to  you  in  the  street,  and  come  and  howl  through 
these  spars  at  midnight!" 

He  had  gone  on  raising  his  voice  at  every  phrase,  for 
all  the  while  the  landlord  was  very  placidly  retiring;  and 
now,  when  the  last  glimmer  of  light  had  vanished  from 
the  arch,  and  the  last  footstep  died  away  in  the  interior, 
Leon  turned  to  his  wife  with  a  heroic  countenance. 

"Elvira,"  said  he,  "I  have  now  a  duty  in  life.  I  shall 
destroy  that  man  as  Eugene  Sue  destroyed  the  concierge. 
Let  us  come  at  once  to  the  Gendarmerie  and  begin  our 
vengeance. ' ' 

He  picked  up  the  guitar-case,  which  had  been  propped 
against  the  wall,  and  they  set  forth  through  the  silent 
and  ill-lighted  town  with  burning  hearts. 

The  Gendarmerie  was  concealed  beside  the  telegraph 
office  at  the  bottom  of  a  vast  court,  which  was  partly  laid 
out  in  gardens;  and  here  all  the  shepherds  of  the  public 
lay  locked  in  grateful  sleep.  It  took  a  deal  of  knocking 
to  waken  one;  and  he,  when  he  came  at  last  to  the  door, 
could  find  no  other  remark  but  that  ' '  it  was  none  of  his 
business."  Leon  reasoned  with  him,  threatened  him, 
besought  him.  "Here,"  he  said,  "was  Madame  Berthelini 
in  evening  dress — a  delicate  woman — in  an  ^interesting 
condition" — the  last  was  thrown  in,  I  fancy,  for  effect; 
and  to  all  this  the  man-at-arms  made  the  same  answer: 

"It  is  none  of  my  business,"  said  he. 

"Very  well,"  said  Leon,  "then  we  shall  go  to  the  Com- 
missary." Thither  they  went;  the  office  was  closed  and 
dark;  but  the  house  was  close  by,  and  Leon  was  soon 
swinging  the  bell  like  a  madman.  The  Commissary's  wife 
appeared  at  a  window.  She  was  a  threadpaper  creature, 
and  informed  them  that  the  Commissary  had  not  yet  come 
home. 

"Is  he  at  the  Maire's?"  demanded  Leon. 


PROVIDENCE  AND  THE  GUITAR  315 

She  thought  that  was  not  unlikely. 

"Where  is  the  Maire's  house?"  he  asked. 

And  she  gave  him  some  rather  vague  information  on 
that  point. 

"Stay  you  here,  Elvira,"  said  Leon,  "lest  I  should 
miss  him  by  the  way.  If,  when  I  return,  I  find  you  here 
no  longer,  I  shall  follow  at  once  to  the  Black  Head." 

And  he  set  out  to  find  the  Maire's.  It  took  him  some 
ten  minutes  wandering  among  blind  lanes,  and  when  he 
arrived  it  was  already  half  an  hour  past  midnight.  A 
long  white  garden  wall  overhung  by  some  thick  chestnuts, 
a  door  with  a  letter-box,  and  an  iron  bell-pull,  that  was 
all  that  could  be  seen  of  the  Maire's  domicile.  Leon 
took  the  bell-pull  in  both  hands,  and  danced  furiously 
upon  the  side-walk.  The  bell  itself  was  just  upon  the 
other  side  of  the  wall,  it  responded  to  his  activity,  and 
scattered  an  alarming  clangor  far  and  wide  into  the 
night. 

A  window  was  thrown  open  in  a  house  across  the  street, 
and  a  voice  inquired  the  cause  of  this  untimely  uproar. 

"I  wish  the  Maire,"  said  Leon. 

"He  has  been  in  bed  this  hour,"  returned  the  voice. 

"He  must  get  up  again,"  retorted  Leon,  and  he  was 
for  tackling  the  bell-pull  once  more. 

"You  will  never  make  him  hear,"  responded  the  voice. 
"The  garden  is  of  great  extent,  the  house  is  at  the  farther 
end,  and  both  the  Maire  and  his  housekeeper  are  deaf." 

"Aha!"  said  Leon,  pausing.  "The  Maire  is  deaf,  is 
he?  That  explains."  And  he  thought  of  the  evening's 
concert  with  a  momentary  feeling  of  relief.  "Ah!"  he 
continued,  "and  so  the  Maire  is  deaf,  and  the  garden 
vast,  and  the  house  at  the  far  end?" 

"And  you  might  ring  all  night,"  added  the  voice,  "and 
be  none  the  better  for  it.  You  would  only  keep  me  awake. ' ' 


316  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

'  "Thank  you,  neighbor, ' '  replied  the  singer.  ' 'You  shall 
sleep." 

And  he  made  off  again  at  his  best  pace  for  the  Com- 
missary's. Elvira  was  still  walking  to  and  fro  before  the 
door. 

"He  has  not  come?"  asked  Leon. 

"Not  he,"  she  replied. 

"Good,"  returned  Leon.  "I  am  sure  our  man's  inside. 
Let  me  see  the  guitar-case.  I  shall  lay  this  siege  in  form, 
Elvira;  I  am  angry;  I  am  indignant;  I  am  truculently  in- 
clined; but  I  thank  my  Maker  I  have  still  a  sense  of  fun. 
The  unjust  judge  shall  be  importuned  in  a  serenade, 
Elvira.  Set  him  up — and  set  him  up. ' ' 

He  had  the  case  opened  by  this  time,  struck  a  few 
chords,  and  fell  into  an  attitude  which  was  irresistibly 
Spanish. 

"Now,"  he  continued,  "feel  your  voice.  Are  you 
ready?  Follow  me!" 

The  guitar  twanged,  and  the  two  voices  upraised,  in 
harmony  and  with  a  startling  loudness,  the  chorus  of  a 
song  of  old  Beranger's: 

"  Commissaire  !    Commissaire  ! 
Colin  bat  sa  menage  re. " 

The  stones  of  Castel-le-Gachis  thrilled  at  this  auda- 
cious innovation.  Hitherto  had  the  night  been  sacred  to 
repose  and  nightcaps;  and  now  what  was  this?  Window 
after  window  was  opened;  matches  scratched,  and  candles 
began  to  flicker;  swollen  sleepy  faces  peered  forth  into 
the  starlight.  There  were  two  figures  before  the  Com- 
missary's house,  each  bolt  upright,  with  head  thrown 
back  and  eyes  interrogating  the  starry  heavens;  the  guitar 
wailed,  shouted,  and  reverberated  like  half  an  orchestra; 
and  the  voices,  with  a  crisp  and  spirited  delivery,  hurled 


PROVIDENCE  AND  THE  GUITAR  317 

the  appropriate  burden  at  the  Commissary's  window.  All 
the  echoes  repeated  the  functionary's  name.  It  was  more 
like  an  entr'acte  in  a  farce  of  Moliere's  than  a  passage  of 
real  life  in  Castel-le-Gachis. 

The  Commissary,  if  he  was  not  the  first,  was  not  the 
last  of  the  neighbors  to  yield  to  the  influence  of  music, 
and  furiously  threw  open  the  window  of  his  bedroom.  He 
was  beside  himself  with  rage.  He  leaned  far  over  the 
window-sill,  raving  and  gesticulating;  the  tassel  of  his 
white  nightcap  danced  like  a  thing  of  life:  he  opened 
his  mouth  to  dimensions  hitherto  unprecedented,  and  yet 
his  voice,  instead  of  escaping  from  it  in  a  roar,  came 
forth  shrill  and  choked  and  tottering.  A  little  more  sere- 
nading, and  it  was  clear  he  would  be  better  acquainted 
with  the  apoplexy. 

I  scorn  to  reproduce  his  language;  he  touched  upon  too 
many  serious  topics  by  the  way  for  a  quiet  story-teller. 
Although  he  was  known  for  a  man  who  was  prompt  with 
his  tongue,  and  had  a  power  of  strong  expression  at  com- 
mand, he  excelled  himself  so  remarkably  this  night,  that 
one  maiden  lady,  who  had  got  out  of  bed  like  the  rest  to 
hear  the  serenade,  was  obliged  to  shut  her  window  at  the 
second  clause.  Even  what  she  had  heard  disquieted  her 
conscience;  and  next  day  she  said  she  scarcely  reckoned 
as  a  maiden  lady  any  longer. 

Leon  tried  to  explain  his  predicament,  but  he  received 
nothing  but  threats  of  arrest  by  way  of  answer. 

"If  I  come  down  to  you!"  cried  the  Commissary. 

"Aye,"  said  Leon,  "do!" 

"I  will  not!"  cried  the  Commissary. 

"You  dare  not!"  answered  Leon. 

At  that  the  Commissary  closed  his  window. 

"All  is  over,"  said  the  singer.  "The  serenade  was 
perhaps  ill-judged.  These  boors  have  no  sense  of  humor. ' ' 


318  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"Let  us  get  away  from  here,"  said  Elvira,  with  a 
shiver.  "All  these  people  looking — it  is  so  rude  and  so 
brutal."  And  then  giving  way  once  more  to  passion — 
"Brutes!"  she  cried  aloud  to  the  candle-lit  spectators — • 
"brutes!  brutes!  brutes!" 

"Sauve  qui  peut, ' '  said  Leon.  '  'You  have  done  it  now ! ' ' 

And  taking  the  guitar  in  one  hand  and  the  case  in  the 

other,  he  led  the  way  with  something  too  precipitate  to 

be  merely  called  precipitation  from  the   scene  of  this 

absurd  adventure. 

CHAPTER  IV 

To  the  west  of  Castel-le-Gachis  four  rows  of  venerable 
lime-trees  formed,  in  this  starry  night,  a  twilit  avenue 
with  two  side  aisles  of  pitch  darkness.  Here  and  there 
benches  were  disposed  between  the  trunks.  There  was  not 
a  breath  of  wind ;  a  heavy  atmosphere  of  perfume  hung 
about  the  alleys;  and  every  leaf  stood  stock-still  upon  its 
twig.  Hither,  after  vainly  knocking  at  an  inn  or  two, 
the  Berthelinis  came  at  length  to  pass  the  night.  After 
an  amiable  contention,  Leon  insisted  on  giving  his  coat 
to  Elvira,  and  they  sat  down  together  on  the  first  bench 
in  silence.  Leon  made  a  cigarette,  which  he  smoked  to 
an  end,  looking  up  into  the  trees,  and,  beyond  them,  at 
the  constellations,  of  which  he  tried  vainly  to  recall  the 
names.  The  silence  was  broken  by  the  church  bell;  it 
rang  the  four  quarters  on  a  light  and  tinkling  measure; 
then  followed  a  single  deep  stroke  that  died  slowly  away 
with  a  thrill;  and  stillness  resumed  its  empire. 

"One,"  said  Leon.  "Four  hours  till  daylight.  It  is 
warm;  it  is  starry;  I  have  matches  and  tobacco.  Do  not 
let  us  exaggerate,  Elvira — the  experience  is  positively 
charming.  I  f^.el  a  glow  within  me;  I  am  born  again. 


PROVIDENCE  AND  THE  GUITAR  319 

This  is  the  poetry  of  life.  Think  of  Cooper's  novels,  my 
dear." 

"Leon,"  she  said,  fiercely,  "how  can  you  talk  such 
wicked,  infamous  nonsense?  To  pass  all  night  out  of 
doors — it  is  like  a  nightmare!  We  shall  die." 

"You  suffer  yourself  to  be  led  away,"  he  replied, 
soothingly.  "It  is  not  unpleasant  here;  only  you  brood. 
Come,  now,  let  us  repeat  a  scene.  Shall  we  try  Alceste 
andCelimene?  No?  Or  a  passage  from  the 'Two  Orphans?' 
Come,  now,  it  will  occupy  your  mind;  I  will  play  up  to 
you  as  I  never  have  played  before;  I  feel  art  moving  in 
my  bones." 

"Hold  your  tongue,"  she  cried,  "or  you  will  drive  me 
mad !  Will  nothing  solemnize  you — not  even  this  hideous 
situation?" 

"Oh,  hideous!"  objected  Leon.  "Hideous  is  not  the 
word.  Why,  where  would  you  be?  'Dites,  la  jeune 
belle,  oti  voulez-vouz  aller?'  "  he  carolled.  "Well,  now," 
he  went  on,  opening  the  guitar-case,  "there's  another 
idea  for  you — sing.  Sing  'Dites,  la  jeune  belle!'  It  will 
compose  your  spirits,  Elvira,  I  am  sure." 

And  without  waiting  an  answer  he  began  to  strum  the 
symphony.  The  first  chords  awoke  a  young  man  who  was 
lying  asleep  upon  a  neighboring  bench. 

"Hullo!"  cried  the  young  man,  "who  are  you?" 

"Under  which  king,  Bezonian?"  declaimed  the  artist. 
"Speak  or  die!" 

Or  if  it  was  not  exactly  that,  it  was  something  to  much 
the  same  purpose  from  a  French  tragedy. 

The  young  man  drew  near  in  the  twilight.  He  was  a 
tall,  powerful,  gentlemanly  fellow,  with  a  somewhat  puffy 
face,  dressed  in  a  gray  tweed  suit,  with  a  deer-stalker 
hat  of  the  same  material ;  and  as  he  now  came  forward  he 
carried  a  knapsack  slung  upon  one  arm. 


320  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"Are  you  camping  out  here,  too?"  he  asked,  with  a 
strong  English  accent.  "I'm  not  sorry  for  company." 

Leon  explained  their  misadventure;  and  the  other  told 
them  that  he  was  a  Cambridge  undergraduate  on  a  walk- 
ing tour,  that  he  had  run  short  of  money,  could  no  longer 
pay  for  his  night's  lodging,  had  already  been  camping 
out  for  two  nights,  and  feared  he  should  require  to  con- 
tinue the  same  manoeuvre  for  at  least  two  nights  more. 

"Luckily,  it's  jolly  weather,"  he  concluded. 

"You  hear  that,  Elvira,"  said  Leon.  "Madame  Berthe- 
lini,"  he  went  on,  "is  ridiculously  affected  by  this  trifling 
occurrence.  For  my  part,  I  find  it  romantic  and  far  from 
uncomfortable;  or  at  least,"  he  added,  shifting  on  the 
stone  bench,  "not  quite  so  uncomfortable  as  might  have 
been  expected.  But  pray  be  seated. " 

"Yes,"  returned  the  undergraduate,  sitting  down, 
"it's  rather  nice  than  otherwise  when  once  you're  used 
to  it;  only  it's  devilish  difficult  to  get  washed.  I  like  the 
fresh  air  and  these  stars  and  things." 

"Aha!"  said  Leon,  "Monsieur  is  an  artist." 

"An  artist?"  returned  the  other,  with  a  blank  stare. 
"Not  if  I  know  it!" 

"Pardon  me,"  said  the  actor.  "What  you  said  this 
moment  about  the  orbs  of  heaven " 

"Oh,  nonsense!"  cried  the  Englishman.  "A  fellow 
may  admire  the  stars  and  be  anything  he  likes." 

"You  have  an  artist's  nature,  however,  Mr. I 

beg  your  pardon;  may  I,  without  indiscretion,  inquire 
your  name?"  asked  Leon. 

"My  name  is  Stubbs,"  replied  the  Englishman. 

"I  thank  you,"  returned  Leon.  "Mine  is  Berthelini — 
Leon  Berthelini,  ex-artist  of  the  theatres  of  Montrouge, 
Belleville,  and  Montmartre.  Humble  as  you  see  me,  I 
have  created  with  applause  more  than  one  important  role. 


PROVIDENCE  AND  THE  GUITAR  321 

The  Press  were  unanimous  in  praise  of  my  Howling  Devil 
of  the  Mountains,  in  the  piece  of  the  same  name.  Madame, 
whom  I  now  present  to  you,  is  herself  an  artist,  and  I 
must  not  omit  to  state,  a  better  artist  than  her  husband. 
She  also  is  a  creator;  she  created  nearly  twenty  successful 
songs  at  one  of  the  principal  Parisian  music-halls.  But, 
to  continue,  I  was  saying  you  had  an  artist's  nature, 
Monsieur  Stubbs,  and  you  must  permit  me  to  be  a  judge 
in  such  a  question.  I  trust  you  will  not  falsify  your  in- 
stincts; let  me  beseech  you  to  follow  the  career  of  an 
artist." 

"Thank  you,"  returned  Stubbs,  with  a  chuckle.  "I'm 
going  to  be  a  banker." 

"No,"  said  Leon,  "do 'not  say  so.  Not  that.  A  man 
with  such  a  nature  as  yours  should  not  derogate  so  far. 
What  are  a  few  privations  here  and  there,  so  long  as  you 
are  working  for  a  high  and  noble  goal?" 

"This  fellow's  mad,"  thought  Stubbs;  "but  the  wom- 
an's rather  pretty,  and  he's  not  bad  fun  for  himself,  if 
you  come  to  that."  What  he  said  was  different.  "I 
thought  you  said  you  were  an  actor?" 

"I  certainly  did  so,"  replied  Leon.  "I  am  one,  or, 
alas!  I  was." 

"And  so  you  want  me  to  be  an  actor,  do  you?"  con- 
tinued the  undergraduate.  "Why,  man,  I  could  never  so 
much  as  learn  the  stuff;  my  memory's  like  a  sieve;  and 
as  for  acting,  I've  no  more  idea  than  a  cat." 

"The  stage  is  not  the  only  course,"  said  Leon.  "Be  a 
sculptor,  be  a  dancer,  be  a  poet  or  a  novelist;  follow  your 
heart,  in  short,  and  do  some  thorough  work  before  you 
die." 

"And  do  you  call  these  things  art?  "  inquired  Stubbs. 

"Why,  certainly!"  returned  Leon.  "Are  they  not  all 
branches?" 


322  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"Oh!  I  didn't  know,"  replied  the  Englishman.  "I 
thought  an  artist  meant  a  fellow  who  painted." 

The  singer  stared  at  him  in  some  surprise. 

"It  is  the  difference  of  language,"  he  said  at  last. 
"This  Tower  of  Babel,  when  shall  we  have  paid  for  it?  If 
I  could  speak  English  you  would  follow  me  more  readily. " 

"Between  you  and  me,  I  don't  believe  I  should,"  re- 
plied the  other.  "You  seem  to  have  thought  a  devil  of  a 
lot  about  this  business.  For  my  part,  I  admire  the  stars, 
and  like  to  have  them  shining — it's  so  cheery — but  hang 
me  if  I  had  an  idea  it  had  anything  to  do  with  art!  It's 
not  in  my  line,  you  see.  I'm  not  intellectual;  I  have  no 
end  of  trouble  to  scrape  through  my  exams. ,  I  can  tell 
you!  But  I'm  not  a  bad  sort  at  bottom,"  he  added,  see- 
ing his  interlocutor  looked  distressed  even  in  the  dim 
starshine,  "and  I  rather  like  the  play,  and  music,  and 
guitars,  and  things. ' ' 

Leon  had  a  perception  that  the  understanding  was  in- 
complete. He  changed  the  subject. 

"And  so  you  travel  on  foot?"  he  continued.  "How  ro- 
mantic! How  courageous!  And  how  are  you  pleased  with 
my  land?  How  does  the  scenery  affect  you  among  these 
wild  hills  of  ours?" 

"Well,  the  fact  is,  "began  Stubbs — he  was  about  to  say 
that  he  didn't  care  for  scenery,  which  was  not  at  all  true, 
being,  on  the  contrary,  only  an  athletic  undergraduate 
pretension;  but  he  had  begun  to  suspect  that  Berthelini 
liked  a  different  sort  of  meat,  and  substituted  something 
else — "The  fact  is,  I  think  it  jolly.  They  told  me  it  was 
no  good  up  here;  even  the  guide-book  said  so;  but  I  don't 
know  what  they  meant.  I  think  it  is  deuced  pretty — 
upon  my  word,  I  do." 

At  this  moment,  in  the  most  unexpected  manner,  Elvira 
burst  into  tears. 


PROVIDENCE  AND  THE  GUITAR  323 

"My  voice!"  she  cried.  "Leon,  if  I  stay  here  longer  I 
shall  lose  my  voice!" 

"You  shall  not  stay  another  moment,  "cried  the  actor. 
"If  I  have  to  beat  in  a  door,  if  I  have  to  burn  the  town, 
I  shall  find  you  shelter." 

With  that,  he  replaced  the  guitar,  and  comforting  her 
with  some  caresses,  drew  her  arm  through  his. 

"Monsieur  Stubbs,"  said  he,  taking  off  his  hat,  "the 
reception  I  offer  you  is  rather  problematical;  but  let  me 
beseech  you  to  give  us  the  pleasure  of  your  society.  You 
are  a  little  embarrassed  for  the  moment;  you  must,  in- 
deed, permit  me  to  advance  what  may  be  necessary.  I 
ask  it  as  a  favor;  we  must  not  part  so  soon  after  having 
met  so  strangely. ' ' 

"Oh,  come,  you  know,"  said  Stubbs,  "I  can't  let  a 
fellow  like  you —  And  there  he  paused,  feeling  some- 
how or  other  on  a  wrong  tack. 

"I  do  not  wish  to  employ  menaces,"  continued  Leon, 
with  a  smile;  "but  if  you  refuse,  indeed  I  shall  not  take 
it  kindly." 

"I  don't  quite  see  my  way  out  of  it,"  thought  the  un- 
dergraduate; and  then,  after  a  pause,  he  said,  aloud  and 
ungraciously  enough,  "All  righc.  I — I'm  very  much 
obliged,  of  course."  And  he  proceeded  to  follow  them, 
thinking  in  his  heart,  "But  it's  bad  form,  all  the  same, 
to  force  an  obligation  on  a  fellow." 

CHAPTER  V 

Leon  strode  ahead  as  if  he  knew  exactly  where  he  was 
going;  the  sobs  of  Madame  were  still  faintly  audible, 
and  no  one  uttered  a  word.  A  dog  barked  furiously  in  a 
court-yard  as  they  went  by;  then  the  church  clock  struck 
two,  and  many  domestic  clocks  followed  or  preceded  it  in 


324  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

piping  tones.  And  just  then  Berthelini  spied  a  light. 
It  burned  in  a  small  house  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town, 
and  thither  the  party  now  directed  their  steps. 

"It  is  always  a  chance,"  said  Leon. 

The  house  in  question  stood  back  from  the  street  behind 
an  open  space,  part  garden,  part  turnip  field;  and  several 
outhouses  stood  forward  from  either  wing  at  right  angles 
to  the  front.  One  of  these  had  recently  undergone  some 
change.  An  enormous  window,  looking  towards  the  north, 
had  been  effected  in  the  wall  and  roof,  and  Leon  began  to 
hope  it  was  a  studio. 

"If  it's  only  a  painter,"  he  said,  with  a  chuckle,  "ten 
to  one  we  get  as  good  a  welcome  as  we  want. ' ' 

"I  thought  painters  were  principally  poor,"  said 
Stubbs. 

"Ah,"  cried  Leon,  "you  do  not  know  the  world  as  I 
do.  The  poorer  the  better  for  us. " 

And  the  trio  advanced  into  the  turnip  field. 

The  light  was  in  the  ground  floor;  as  one  window  was 
brightly  illuminated  and  two  others  more  faintly,  it  might 
be  supposed  that  there  was  a  single  lamp  in  one  corner  of 
a  large  apartment;  and  a  certain  tremulousness  and  tem- 
porary dwindling  showed  that  a  live  fire  contributed  to 
the  effect.  The  sound  of  a  voice  now  became  audible; 
and  the  trespassers  paused  to  listen.  It  was  pitched  in  a 
high,  angry  key,  but  had  still  a  good,  full,  and  masculine 
note  in  it.  The  utterance  was  voluble,  too  voluble  even 
to  be  quite  distinct;  a  stream  of  words,  rising  and  falling, 
with  ever  and  again  a  phrase  thrown  out  by  itself,  as  if 
the  speaker  reckoned  on  its  virtue. 

Suddenly  another  voice  joined  in.  This  time  it  was  a 
woman's;  and  if  the  man's  were  angry,  the  woman  was 
incensed  to  the  degree  of  fury.  There  was  that  absolutely 
blank  composure  known  to  suffering  males;  that  colorless 


PROVIDENCE  AND  THE  GUITAR  325 

unnatural  speech  which  shows  a  spirit  accurately  balanced 
between  homicide  and  hysterics;  the  tone  in  which  the 
best  of  women  sometimes  utter  words  worse  than  death 
to  those  most  dear  to  them.  If  Abstract  Bones-and- 
Sepulchre  were  to  be  endowed  with  the  gift  of  speech, 
thus,  and  not  otherwise,  would  it  discourse.  Leon  was  a 
brave  man,  and  I  fear  he  was  somewhat  sceptically  given 
(he  had  been  educated  in  a  Papistical  country),  but  the 
habit  of  childhood  prevailed,  and  he  crossed  himself 
devoutly.  He  had  met  several  women  in  his  career.  It 
was  obvious  that  his  instinct  had  not  deceived  him,  for 
the  male  voice  broke  forth  instantly  in  a  towering  pas- 
sion. 

The  undergraduate,  who  had  not  understood  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  woman's  contribution,  pricked  up  his  ears  at 
the  change  upon  the  man. 

"There's  going  to  be  a  free  fight,"  he  opined. 

There  was  another  retort  from  the  woman,  still  calm 
but  a  little  higher. 

"Hysterics?"  asked  Leon  of  his  wife.  "Is  that  the 
stage  direction?" 

"How  should  I  know?"  returned  Elvira,  somewhat 
tartly. 

"Oh,  woman,  woman!"  said  Leon,  beginning  to  open 
the  guitar-case.  "It  is  one  of  the  burdens  of  my  life, 
Monsieur  Stubbs;  they  support  each  other;  they  always 
pretend  there  is  no  system;  they  say  it's  nature.  Even 
Madame  Berthelini,  who  is  a  dramatic  artist!" 

"You  are  heartless,  Leon,"  said  Elvira;  "that  woman 
is  in  trouble." 

"And  the  man,  my  angel?"  inquired  Berthelini,  pass- 
ing the  ribbon  of  his  guitar.  "And  the  man,  m'amowr?" 

"He  is  a  man,"  she  answered. 

"You  hear  that?"  said  Leon  to  Stubbs.    "It  is  not  too 


326  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

late  for  you.  Mark  the  intonation.  And  now,*' he  con- 
tinued, "what  are  we  to  give  them?" 

"Are  you  going  to  sing?"  asked  Stubbs. 

"I  am  a  troubadour,"  replied  Leon.  "I  claim  a  wel- 
come by  and  for  my  art.  If  I  were  a  banker  could  I  do 
as  much?" 

"Well,  you  wouldn't  need,  you  know,"  answered  the 
undergraduate. 

"Egad,"  said  Leon,  "but  that's  true.  Elvira,  that 
is  true." 

"Of  course  it  is,  "she  replied.    "Did  you  not  know  it?" 

"My  dear,"  answered  Leon,  impressively,  "I  know 
nothing  but  what  is  agreeable.  Even  my  knowledge  of 
life  is  a  work  of  art  superiorly  composed.  But  what  are 
we  to  give  them?  It  should  be  something  appropriate." 

Visions  of  "Let  dogs  delight"  passed  through  the  un- 
dergraduate's mind;  but  it  occurred  to  him  that  the 
poetry  was  English  and  that  he  did  not  know  the  air. 
Hence  he  contributed  no  suggestion. 

"Something  about  our  houselessness, "  said  Elvira. 

"I  have  it,"  cried  Leon.  And  he  broke  forth  into  a 
song  of  Pierre  Dupont's: 

Savez-vous  ou  gite 
Mai,  ce  joli  mois? 

Elvira  joined  in;  so  did  Stubbs,  with  a  good  ear  and 
voice,  but  an  imperfect  acquaintance  with  the  music. 
Leon  and  the  guitar  were  equal  to  the  situation.  The 
actor  dispensed  his  throat-notes  with  prodigality  and  en- 
thusiasm; and,  as  he  looked  up  to  heaven  in  his  heroic 
way,  tossing  the  black  ringlets,  it  seemed  to  him  that  the 
very  stars  contributed  a  dumb  applause  to  his  efforts,  and 
the  universe  lent  him  its  silence  for  a  chorus.  That  is 
one  of  the  best  features  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  that  they 


PROVIDENCE  AND  THE  GUITAR  327 

belong  to  everybody  in  particular;  and  a  man  like  Leon, 
a  chronic  Endymion  who  managed  to  get  along  without 
encouragement,  is  always  the  world's  centre  for  himself. 

He  alone — and  it  is  to  be  noted,  he  was  the  worst  singer 
of  the  three — took  the  music  seriously  to  heart,  and 
judged  the  serenade  from  a  high  artistic  point  of  view. 
Elvira,  on  the  other  hand,  was  preoccupied  about  their 
reception;  and,  as  for  Stubbs,  he  considered  the  whole 
affair  in  the  light  of  a  broad  joke. 

"Know  you  the  lair  of  May,  the  lovely  month?"  went 
the  three  voices  in  the  turnip-field. 

The  inhabitants  were  plainly  fluttered;  the  light  moved 
to  and  fro,  strengthening  in  one  window,  paling  in 
another;  and  then  the  door  was  thrown  open,  and  a  man 
in  a  blouse  appeared  on  the  threshold  carrying  a  lamp. 
He  was  a  powerful  young  fellow,  with  bewildered  hair 
and  beard,  wearing  his  neck  open;  his  blouse  was  stained 
with  oil-colors  in  a  harlequinesque  disorder;  and  there 
was  something  rural  in  the  droop  and  bagginess  of  his 
belted  trousers. 

From  immediately  'behind  him,  and  indeed  over  his 
shoulder,  a  woman's  face  looked  out  into  the  darkness;  it 
was  pale  and  a  little  weary,  although  still  young;  it  wore 
a  dwindling,  disappearing  prettiness,  soon  to  be  quite 
gone,  and  the  expression  was  both  gentle  and  sour,  and 
reminded  one  faintly  of  the  taste  of  certain  drugs.  For 
all  that,  it  was  not  a  face  to  dislike;  when  the  prettiness 
had  vanished,  it  seemed  as  if  a  certain  pale  beauty  might 
step  in  to  take  its  place;  and  as  both  the  mildness  and 
the  asperity  were  characters  of  youth,  it  might  be  hoped 
that,  with  years,  both  would  merge  into  a  constant, 
brave,  and  not  unkindly  temper. 

"What  is  all  this?"  cried  the  man. 


328  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 


CHAPTER  VI 

Leon  had  his  hat  in  his  hand  at  once.  He  came  forward 
with  his  customary  grace ;  it  was  a  moment  which  would 
have  earned  him  a  round  of  cheering  on  the  stage.  Elvira 
and  Stubbs  advanced  behind  him,  like  a  couple  of  Ad- 
metus's  sheep  following  the  god  Apollo. 

"Sir,"  said  Leon,  "the  hour  is  unpardonably  late,  and 
our  little  serenade  has  the  air  of  an  impertinence.  Be- 
lieve me,  sir,  it  is  an  appeal.  Monsieur  is  an  artist,  I 
perceive.  We  are  here  three  artists  benighted  and  with- 
out shelter,  one  a  woman — a  delicate  woman — in  evening 
dress — in  an  interesting  situation.  This  will  not  fail  to 
touch  the  woman's  heart  of  Madame,  whom  I  perceive 
indistinctly  behind  Monsieur  her  husband,  andVhose  face 
speaks  eloquently  of  a  well-regulated  mind.  Ah!  Mon- 
sieur, Madame — one  generous  movement,  and  you  make 
three  people  happy!  Two  or  three  hours  beside  your  fire 
— I  ask  it  of  Monsieur  in  the  name  of  Art — I  ask  it  of 
Madame  by  the  sanctity  of  womanhood." 

The  two,  as  by  a  tacit  consent,  drew  back  from  the 
door. 

"Come  in,"  said  the  man. 

"Entrez,  Madame,"  said  the  woman. 

The  door  opened  directly  upon  the  kitchen  of  the  house, 
which  was  to  all  appearance  the  only  sitting-room.  The 
furniture  was  both  plain  and  scanty;  but  there  were  one 
or  two  landscapes  on  the  wall  handsomely  framed,  as  if 
they  had  already  visited  the  committee-rooms  of  an  exhi- 
bition and  been  thence  extruded.  Leon  walked  up  to  the 
pictures  and  represented  the  part  of  a  connoisseur  before 
each  in  turn,  with  his  usual  dramatic  insight  and  force. 
The  master  of  the  house,  as  if  irresistibly  attracted,  fol- 


PROVIDENCE  AND  THE  GUITAR  329 

lowed  him  from  canvas  to  canvas  with  the  lamp.  Elvira 
was  led  directly  to  the  fire,  where  she  proceeded  to  warm 
herself,  while  Stubbs  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  and 
followed  the  proceedings  of  Leon  with  mild  astonishment 
in  his  eyes. 

"You  should  see  them  by  daylight,"  said  the  artist. 

"I  promise  myself  that  pleasure,"  said  Leon.  "You 
possess,  sir,  if  you  will  permit  me  an  observation,  the 
art  of  composition  to  a  T. " 

'  'You  are  very  good, ' '  returned  the'other.  '  'But  should 
you  not  draw  nearer  to  the  fire?" 

"With  all  my  heart,"  said  Leon. 

And  the  whole  party  soon  gathered  at  the  table  over  a 
hasty  and  not  an  elegant  cold  supper,  washed  down  with 
the  least  of  small  wines.  Nobody  liked  the  meal,  but  no- 
body complained;  they  put  a  good  face  upon  it,  one  and 
all,  and  made  a  great  clattering  of  knives  and  forks.  To 
see  Leon  eating  a  single  cold  sausage  was  to  see  a  tri- 
umph ;  by  the  time  he  had  done  he  had  got  through  as 
much  pantomime  as  would  have  sufficed  for  a  baron  of 
beef,  and  he  had  the  relaxed  expression  of  the  over-eaten. 

As  Elvira  had  naturally  taken  a  place  by  the  side  of 
Leon,  and  Stubbs  as  naturally,  although  I  believe  uncon- 
sciously, by  the  side  of  Elvira,  the  host  and  hostess  were 
left  together.  Yet  it  was  to  be  noted  that  they  never 
addressed  a  word  to  each  other,  nor  so  much  as  suffered 
their  eyes  to  meet.  The  interrupted  skirmish  still  sur- 
vived in  ill  feeling;  and  the  instant  the  guests  departed 
it  would  break  forth  again  as  bitterly  as  ever.  The  talk 
wandered  from  this  to  that  subject — for  with  one  accord 
the  party  had  declared  it  was  too  late  to  go  to  bed;  but 
those  two  never  relaxed  towards  each  other;  Goneril  and 
Regan  in  a  sisterly  tiff  were  not  more  bent  on  enmity. 

It  chanced  that  Elvira  was  so  much  tired  by  all  the 


330  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

little  excitements  of  the  night,  that  for  once  she  laid  aside 
her  company  manners,  which  were  both  easy  and  correct, 
and  in  the  most  natural  manner  in  the  world  leaned  her 
head  on  Leon's  shoulder.  At  the  same  time,  fatigue 
suggesting  tenderness,  she  locked  the  fingers  of  her  right 
hand  into  those  of  her  husband's  left;  and,  half-closing 
her  eyes,  dozed  off  into  a  golden  borderland  between  sleep 
and  waking.  But  all  the  time  she  was  not  unaware  of 
what  was  passing,  and  saw  the  painter's  wife  studying 
her  with  looks  between  contempt  and  envy. 

It  occurred  to  Leon  that  his  constitution  demanded  the 
use  of  some  tobacco ;  and  he  undid  his  fingers  from  Elvira's 
in  order  to  roll  a  cigarette.  It  was  gently  done,  and  he 
took  care  that  his  indulgence  should  in  no  other  way  dis- 
turb his  wife's  position.  But  it  seemed  to  catch  the  eye 
of  the  painter's  wife  with  a  special  significancy.  She 
looked  straight  before  her  for  an  instant,  and  then,  with 
a  swift  and  stealthy  movement,  took  hold  of  her  husband's 
hand  below  the  table.  Alas!  she  might  have  spared  her- 
self the  dexterity.  For  the  poor  fellow  was  so  overcome 
by  this  caress  that  he  stopped  with  his  mouth  open  in  the 
middle  of  a  word,  and  by  the  expression  of  his  face  plainly 
declared  to  all  the  company  that  his  thoughts  had  been 
diverted  into  softer  channels. 

If  it  had  not  been  rather  amiable,  it  would  have  been 
absurdly  droll.  His  wife  at  once  withdrew  her  touch; 
but  it  was  plain  she  had  to  exert  some  force.  Thereupon 
the  young  man  colored  and  looked  for  a  moment  beautiful. 

Leon  and  Elvira  both  observed  the  by-play,  and  a  shock 
passed  from  one  to  the  other;  for  they  were  inveterate 
match-makers,  especially  between  those  who  were  already 
married. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Leon,  suddenly.     "I  see  no 
use  in  pretending.     Before  we  came  in  here  we  heard 


PROVIDENCE  AND  THE  GUITAR  331 

sounds  indicating — if  I  may  so  express  myself — an  im- 
perfect harmony. ' ' 

"Sir —      "  began  the  man. 

But  the  woman  was  beforehand. 

"It  is  quite  true,"  she  said.  "I  see  no  cause  to  be 
ashamed.  If  my  husband  is  mad  I  shall  at  least  do  my 
utmost  to  prevent  the  consequences.  Picture  to  yourself, 
Monsieur  and  Madame,"  she  went  on,  for  she  passed 
Stubbs  over,  "that  this  wretched  person — a  dauber,  an 
incompetent,  not  fit  to  be  a  sign-painter — receives  this 
morning  an  admirable  offer  from  an  uncle — an  uncle  of 
my  own,  my  mother's  brother,  and  tenderly  beloved — of 
a  clerkship  with  nearly  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  a  year, 
and  that  he — picture  to  yourself! — he  refuses  it!  Why? 
For  the  sake  of  Art,  he  says.  Look  at  his  art,  I  say- 
look  at  it!  Is  it  fit  to  be  seen?  Ask  him — is  it  fit  to  be 
sold?  And  it  is  for  this,  Monsieur  and  Madame,  that  he 
condemns  me  to  the  most  deplorable  existence,  without 
luxuries,  without  comforts,  in  a  vile  suburb  of  a  country 
town.  0  non!"  she  cried,  "non — je  ne  me  tairai  pas — 
c'est  plus  fort  que  moi !  I  take  these  gentlemen  and  this 
lady  for  judges — is  this  kind?  is  it  decent?  is  it  manly? 
Do  I  not  deserve  better  at  his  hands  after  having  married 
him  and" — (a  visible  hitch) — "done  everything  in  the 
world  to  please  him?" 

I  doubt  if  there  were  ever  a  more  embarrassed  company 
at  a  table;  everyone  looked  like  a  fool;  and  the  husband 
like  the  biggest. 

"The  art  of  Monsieur,  however,"  said  Elvira,  breaking 
the  silence,  "is  not  wanting  in  distinction." 

"It  has  this  distinction,"  said  the  wife,  "that  nobody 
will  buy  it." 

"I  should  have  supposed  a  clerkship —     ' '  began  Stubbs. 

"Art  is  Art,"  swept  in  Leon.     "I  salute  Art.     It  is 


332  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

the  beautiful,  the  divine;  it  is  the  spirit  of  the  world, 
and  the  pride  of  life.  But —  And  the  actor  paused. 

"A  clerkship "  began  Stubbs. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,"  said  the  painter.  "I  am  an 
artist,  and  as  this  gentleman  says,  Art  is  this  and  the 
other;  but  of  course,  if  my  wife  is  going  to  make  my  life 
a  piece  of  perdition  all  daylong,  I  prefer  to  go  and  drown 
myself  out  of  hand." 

"Go!"  said  his  wife.     "I  should  like  to  see  you!" 

"I  was  going  to  say,"  resumed  Stubbs,  "that  a  fellow 
may  be  a  clerk  and  paint  almost  as  much  as  he  likes.  I 
know  a  fellow  in  a  bank  who  makes  capital  water-color 
sketches;  he  even  sold  one  for  seven-and-six. " 

To  both  the  women  this  seemed  a  plank  of  safety;  each 
hopefully  interrogated  the  countenance  of  her  lord;  even 
Elvira,  an  artist  herself! — but  indeed  there  must  be  some- 
thing permanently  mercantile  in  the  female  nature.  The 
two  men  exchanged  a  glance;  it  was  tragic;  not  otherwise 
might  two  philosophers  salute,  as  at  the  end  of  a  labori- 
ous life  each  recognized  that  he  was  still  a  mystery  to 
his  disciples. 

Leon  arose. 

"Art  is  Art,"  he  repeated,  sadly.  "It  is  not  water- 
color  sketches,  nor  practising  on  a  piano.  It  is  a  life  to 
be  lived." 

"And  in  the  meantime  people  starve!"  observed  the 
woman  of  the  house.  "If  that's  a  life,  it  is  not  one  for 
me." 

"I'll  tell  you  what,"  burst  forth  Leon;  "you  Madame, 
go  into  another  room  and  talk  it  over  with  my  wife ;  and 
I'll  stay  here  and  talk  it  over  with  your  husband.  It  may 
come  to  nothing,  but  let's  try." 

"I  am  very  willing,"  replied  the  young  woman;  and 
she  proceeded  to  light  a  candle.  "This  way  if  you 


PROVIDENCE  AND  THE  GUITAR  333 

please."  And  she  led  Elvira  upstairs  into  a  bedroom. 
"The  fact  is,"  said  she,  sitting  down,  "that  my  husband 
cannot  paint. ' ' 

"No  more  can  mine  act,"  replied  Elvira. 

"I  should  have  thought  he  could,"  returned  the  other; 
"he  seems  clever." 

"He  is  so,  and  the  best  of  men  besides,"  said  Elvira; 
"but  he  cannot  act." 

"At  least  he  is  not  a  sheer  humbug  like  mine;  he  can 
at  least  sing. ' ' 

"You  mistake  Leon,"  returned  his  wife,  warmly.  "He 
does  not  even  pretend  to  sing;  he  has  too  fine  a  taste;  he 
does  so  for  a  living.  And,  believe  me,  neither  of  the  men 
are  humbugs.  They  are  people  with  a  mission — which 
they  cannot  carry  out. ' ' 

"Humbug  or  not,"  replied  the  other,  "you  came  very 
near  passing  the  night  in  the  fields;  and,  for  my  part,  I 
live  in  terror  of  starvation.  I  should  think  it  was  a  man's 
mission  to  think  twice  about  his  wife.  But  it  appears 
not.  Nothing  is  their  mission  but  to  play  the  fool. 
Oh!"  she  broke  out,  "is  it  not  something  dreary  to  think 
of  that  man  of  mine?  If  he  could  only  do  it,  who  would 
care?  But  no — not  he — no  more  than  I  can!" 

"Have  you  any  children?"  asked  Elvira. 

"No;  but  then  I  may." 

"Children  change  so  much,"  said  Elvira,  with  a  sigh. 

And  just  then  from  the  room  below  there  flew  up  a 
sudden  snapping  cord  on  the  guitar;  one  followed  after 
another;  then  the  voice  of  Leon  joined  in;  and  there  was 
an  air  being  played  and  sung  that  stopped  the  speech  of 
the  two  women.  The  wife  of  the  painter  stood  like  a 
person  transfixed;  Elvira,  looking  into  her  eyes,  could  see 
all  manner  of  beautiful  memories  and  kind  thoughts  that 
were  passing  in  and  out  of  her  soul  with  every  note;  it 


334  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

was  a  piece  of  her  youth  that  went  before  her;  a  green 
French  plain,  the  smell  of  apple-flowers,  the  far  and 
shining  ringlets  of  a  river,  and  the  words  and  presence 
of  love. 

"Leon  has  hit  the  nail,"  thought  Elvira  to  herself,  "I 
wonder  how." 

The  how  was  plain  enough.  Leon  has  asked  the  painter 
if  there  were  no  air  connected  with  courtship  and  pleasant 
times;  and  having  learned  what  he  wished,  and  allowed 
an  interval  to  pass,  he  had  soared  forth  into 

O  mon  amante, 

O  mon  desir 

Sachons  cueillir 
L'heure  charmante! 

"Pardon  me,  Madame,"  said  the  painter's  wife,  "your 
husband  sings  admirably  well." 

"He  sings  ithat  with  some  feeling,"  replied  Elvira, 
critically,  although  she  was  a  little  moved  herself,  for  the 
song  cut  both  ways  in  the  upper  chamber;  but  it  is  as  an 
actor  and  not  as  a  musician." 

"Life  is  very  sad,"  said  the  other;  "it  so  wastes  away 
under  one's  fingers." 

"I  have  not  found  it  so,"  replied  Elvira.  "I  think  the 
good  parts  of  it  last  and  grow  greater  every  day." 

"Frankly  how  would  you  advise  me?" 

"Frankly  I  would  let  my  husband  do  what  he  wished. 
He  is  obviously  a  very  loving  painter;  you  have  not  yet 
tried  him  as  a  clerk.  And  you  know — if  it  were  only  as 
the  possible  father  of  your  children — it  is  as]well  to  keep 
him  at  his  best." 

"He  is  an  excellent  fellow,"  said  the  wife. 

They  kept  it  up  till  sunrise  with  music  and  all  manner 
of  good-fellowship;  and  at  sunrise,  while  the  sky  was  still 


PROVIDENCE  AND  THE  GUITAR  335 

temperate  and  clear,  they  separated  on  the  threshold  with 
a  thousand  excellent  wishes  for  each  other's  welfare. 
Castel-le-Gachis  was  beginning  to  send  up  its  smoke 
against  the  golden  East;  and  the  church  bell  was  ringing 
six. 

4 'My guitar  is  a  familiar  spirit,"  said  Leon,  as  he  and 
Elvira  took  the  nearest  way  toward  the  inn;  "it  resusci- 
tated a  Commissary,  created  an  English  tourist,  and 
reconciled  a  man  and  wife." 

Stubbs,  on  his  part,  went  off  into  the  morning  with 
reflections  of  his  own. 

"They  are  all  mad,"  thought  he,  "all  mad — but  won- 
derfully decent. ' ' 


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